Absence
by FyreBrande
Summary: Sequel to Aftermath, follows Rahna Tabris through the events of Awakening and beyond. Dragon Age Universe doesn't belong to me.
1. On Our Way

**This is a sequel to my story Aftermath. If you haven't read that yet, you probably should before reading Absence, as I do refer back to things that happened in Aftermath. This was written as a natural continuation, so it will make more sense if you've read Aftermath first. =)**

1. On Our Way

"You do it."

"No, no, no, Rahna, _you're_ the Commander. You should do it." Gabriel grins at me, as water drips from his hair onto the map he's holding.

I scowl at the sky as the rain increases from heavy to torrential. "Rather than standing here arguing, let's find somewhere to get out of the bloody rain," I suggest. Maker, I _hate_ traveling in the rain. Everything gets impossibly muddy, and leather armor is not fun when wet. "We can argue the matter further once the sky's not attempting to drown us."

He chuckles, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. "Whatever you say, Commander."

"Are you teasing me about that so much because Jowan's not here to do it too?" I demand as we make for a rocky overhang a short distance off. "Also, how in Andraste's name do you stand rain like this?" I'm burrowed as far inside my cloak as I can get, not that it's helping much, but Gabriel doesn't even have his hood up.

"Try working outside in this kind of weather. I guarantee you just walking in it won't seem so bad," he replies, raking back the soaked red strands clinging to his forehead as he ducks under the rock. "And no, I'd tease you this much, _Commander_, even if Jowan and Miri were _both_ here." He grins.

"I see. Thanks for clearing that up," I mutter, settling under the rock. It's not much, and if a wind kicks up we'll still get soaked-not that we'd even notice-but it's better than nothing. "Now, back to the matter at hand. You _really_ don't know me if you're even considering the notion of trusting me with directions. Besides, you're _from_ Jader. I'd think if you can't figure out the best possible route, we're in trouble." I tap one finger against the slightly soggy map. "Come on, Ser Andras. Best way to get from Ha...Halam...shiral to Jader?"

He smirks at me. "Aside from the fact you absolutely _murdered_ the pronunciation, you'd mainly follow the road, silly goose."

"It curves a day or so shy of Jader, though. Look." I shift position to lean over and show him. "And it's not my fault you Orlesians give things impossible to pronounce names."

He makes a face at me for that but deliberately doesn't comment on it, focusing instead on the directions. "I said mainly, Rahna. But even when the road curves away, it's not that hard. Just a straight shot across some rarely traveled ground," he assures me.

"You're still leading for that part. If I can get lost following a sodding road, I don't want to think about where we'll end up if there isn't a clearly marked path to follow."

"Fine, you win." Gabriel leans back against the rock behind him. "How're you going to manage to get to Amaranthine on your own if you're so horrible with directions?"

I shrug, pulling my knees into my chest for warmth and staring at the rain. "Not sure. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Should I start figuring out what to put on the 'Missing' posters?" he teases.

I sock him in the arm and immediately regret it. He's still wearing his armor. "Ow!"

"Nice." Gabriel laughs. "Might want to think out your reaction a little better next time."

I huff in exasperation but can't help the smile that curves my lips as I turn my back and pointedly ignore him, surreptitiously flexing my hand to make sure I didn't break anything.

**oOo**

Since Gabriel's already tired, I offer to take the first watch as dusk begins to darken the now-cloudless sky.

"I think I'll take you up on that," he mutters around a yawn, rubbing his eyes.

"Then go to sleep. How long d'you want before I wake you?" I ask, settling on a small boulder that makes a perfect seat.

"Two or three hours. Up to you which one," he replies, before leaning his head back against the rock and almost instantly falling asleep.

_Sod, how does he do that?_ I wonder as I turn to watch the darkness. The likelihood of something attacking us is incredibly low, but I'd rather play it safe. As I stare out, trying to memorize which looming shadows belong to rocks and trees, I can't help but wonder what exactly Gabriel did before he joined the Wardens. I know a little, like it didn't lend itself to traditional methods of learning how to fight. Hence the fighting style that borders on being a hybrid of warrior and rogue mashed together. And the berserker combat. He doesn't worry about finesse, or making it look pretty, he just wades in intent on winning.

And he loves to read. _That's_ the piece that puzzles me the most. I can count on one hand-with fingers left over-the number of warriors I've met who also loved to read. _A real enigma, this elf._ I shake my head and drag my concentration back to my surroundings. I can wonder about Gabriel's past, or better yet, just _ask_ him, later. For now, I need to pay attention.

**oOo**

The night passes without so much as a suspicious rustle. The darkspawn dreams, which I thought I'd gotten better at blocking out, toyed with the edges of my mind all night, but other than that, nothing interesting happened.

Unfortunately-or fortunately, depending on who you ask-the rain yesterday ensures there is no dry wood to be found. This means no campfire, which means no cooking. Anyone who knows me would breathe a prayer of thanks for that. Thanks to Leliana, it's at least edible, but I remain just about the last person you want cooking. Still, hot food would have been nice after such a rainy, cold, miserable night, and I sigh as I dig out the dried meat buried on the bottom of my pack.

"Here." I toss some to Gabriel. "How close you think we are?"

He shrugs as he bites off some of the meat, mentally calculating distance as he chews. "Mmmm...we passed Lydes a day back, yes?"

I nod. "Mm-hm." I can't help the nostalgic smile that curves my lips as I remember the _last_ time I passed Lydes.

**oOo**

_"Rahna?" Jowan sits near the fire. "I've made up my mind. About joining the Wardens."_

_"And?" I demand, dropping to my knees so we're at eye level._

_He drags one hand through his hair, takes a deep breath and meets my eyes. "I'll do it."_

**oOo**

"What?" Gabriel's looking at me funny.

I shake my head and sigh. "Nothing. So if we're a day past Lydes, how long d'you think?"

He looks like he's still curious, but lets it go. "Well, if we can keep going at the same pace, four more days, I think."

"Sounds good to me." I smirk. "Maybe you can introduce me to some of these people you and Miri were always talking about. Like Keenan, or Clera."

"Oh, you'd have fun with Clera," he laughs. "Maker, I'd pay good money to see you two go head to head over something."

"Why?" I slide the straps of my pack up my arms, rolling my shoulders so it sits right.

"Because she's as stubborn and hard-headed as you seem to be," he replies through a grin. "I just think it would be fun to see who would win."

"If she's a stubborn, forceful old woman, I surrender right now. They always manage to win somehow."

"Coward."

"No, smart enough to know when I'd be beat before I even start," I shoot back. "Come on. Let's get moving."

He grabs up his pack and nods. "Right behind you, Rahna." We head down the road toward Halamshiral, walking in companionable silence as we eat while we walk.

I finish first. I've always been a fast eater, and knowing Dog would steal anything I didn't eat fast enough only made matters worse. As I swallow the last bite, I decide there's no harm in asking the question that's been bothering me for a while now. "Um, Gabriel?"

"Mm?"

"What did you do before you were a Grey Warden?" I brush back loose tendrils of hair falling in my eyes as I look over at him.

"I was a servant of a chevalier. My father had worked his way up to weapons master, and I helped him in the armory."

"So how did you learn how to fight?" A frown of confusion wrinkles my forehead. I can't see a chevalier wanting his servants to know how to fight. That seems kind of counter-productive to keeping them as servants.

"I watched the knights and squires, and my master, occasionally, as they practiced. Picked up techniques from that and practiced with a castaway practice sword and shield." He runs his hand through his hair. "One night my master caught me. Instead of punishing me, or even just yelling at me, he told me I could practice at night, as long as I'd finished everything I supposed to first. A year after that, when I was thirteen, he let me start practicing with the squires."

"And they were okay with practicing with an elf?" From what I know of Orlesian humans, they view elves as coveted servants, but never, ever equals.

Gabriel shrugs. "After I landed most of them flat on their backs in sparring matches they were."

"Is that why you don't fight like a normal warrior?"

"What do you mean?" It's his turn to look confused.

"I've fought side by side with a warrior who used a sword and shield before. You're quicker than he was, slightly...sneakier, for lack a better word. Almost like you took bits and pieces from a rogue's fighting style as well as a warrior's. It makes you _really_ hard to predict."

"Good," he chuckles, "predictable is the last thing I want to be in a fight."

"So is that because of watching everybody practice and teaching yourself? I figure some rogue elements would find their way in rather easily."

He shrugs again. "It's possible. I wasn't aiming for any particular style; I just wanted to know how to fight. And I got really good at it."

"How good? And how'd you end up in the Wardens?"

"Good enough that by the time I was sixteen my master would set up matches between me and and other chevaliers' knights and take wagers who would win." He smirks. "He made a _lot_ of money before they caught on."

"I take it you usually won?" I chuckle.

"I did indeed. I guess a scrawny, teenaged elf doesn't look that intimidating. Until they discovered I don't really have an identifiable fighting style." His smirk widens. "That's the great thing about being a berserker. No one knows what to expect from you."

"So what happened after they caught on to the fact you were actually really good?" This is just about the best story I've heard in ages. Mine suddenly doesn't sound so interesting.

"I got called a knife-eared bastard-which isn't true; my parents are, in fact, married-" he grins, "-and then they still kept coming because they couldn't look like they were afraid or or could be beaten by an elf. And they kept losing. I did that for five years. That's where I got this." He runs his thumb almost fondly down the scar that creases his right cheek. "When I was twenty one, a Grey Warden happened to be visiting the chevalier whose knight I was fighting. He was impressed enough he conscripted me. My master was rather mad about that. I was making him a lot of money." He looks over at me. "What about you? How'd you join the Wardens?"

"Oh, it's downright boring compared to _that_," I mutter. "You don't really want to hear about it..."

"Yes, Rahna, I do, actually."

"Well, alright, then..."

_A/N: Now I'm really bummed Gabriel's not going all the way to Amaranthine with Rahna. *pout* The two of them are so fun to write together. Oh, well, at least he'll be around for another chapter or two before they get to Jader... Anyway, yay for chapter one!_


	2. Wish You Were Here

2. Wish You Were Here

I tell Gabriel my story, going into more detail about my almost-wedding day and Nelaros than I ever have with anyone except Alistair. Somehow knowing he hasn't had the easiest life either makes me think he'll actually understand better than most would.

"I'm still wearing his ring," I admit, rubbing my thumb against the underside of the scratched gold band. "I...can't bring myself to take it off. That was the first time anyone had actually demonstrated loving me enough to risk death for my sake, and I don't want to ever forget him."

"You don't have to explain it to me," Gabriel interjects. "It makes perfect sense, as far as I'm concerned." He smiles. "Miri never takes off her ice enchantment necklace because it reminds her of Jowan, even if he didn't give it to her. And Keenan practically went crazy when he lost his wedding ring a couple years ago. If people can be so attached to still living friends or loved ones, I think it makes even more sense to want to hold on to something that reminds you of someone special who died."

A wry smile curves my lips as I curl my fingers around the amulet still hanging against my chest. "I'm glad you don't think I'm crazy. It's amazing how many people look at me like I've totally lost my mind because I won't take off the ring from a wedding that didn't really happen more than a year ago." Of course, the more recent wound of losing Alistair hurts more than Nelaros' death, considering Alistair and I had a year, whereas I only knew Nelaros for a few hours. "And I was actually looking forward to marrying him, too. I was less than thrilled about having to settle down, but there was just something about him that made me think it might not be so bad," I confess.

"Well-" Gabriel slips on a particularly nasty patch of mud, barely catching himself as the mud splatters over most of his armor. He curses under his breath in Orlesian as he stands back up. "Now I know what I'll be doing when we set up camp tonight," he mutters, scraping off as much of the mud as he can while I try to both look innocent and not laugh . Gabriel shoots me a mildly annoyed look. "Instead of looking subtly pleased, d'you think you could help? It's not like _you_ did that." His eyes narrow in joking suspicion. "Or did you?"

I put on a show of being hurt but can't help grinning as I swipe at the mud on his breastplate. "Me? I would _never_ do such a thing! And I'm appalled you think so little of me."

"I call you a genius prankster and you take it as an insult?" Gabriel teases. "From what I know of you, I would think it would be a compliment."

"The Warden Commander is above such pettiness," I retort, trying for a serious and aloof tone, which quickly dissolves into a giggle when Gabriel gives me a Look and smudges the glop of mud clinging to his thumb across my cheek. "_That_ was mature, ser," I grin as I wipe it off with the back of my hand. "What would Miri say?"

"She'd tell me to grow up, but would be giggling so hard it would be difficult to take her seriously," he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maker, how bad is it that I miss her horrifically?"

"Not at all. I miss Jowan, and he and I were just friends. I'm sure it's harder for you and Miri since the two of you love each other so much."

"True. Come on, let's go." He wipes the last of the mud off his hands, shoots a displeased glance at what's still smeared across his armor, and returns to walking. "I'll take care of the rest when we make camp."

I fall in step next to him. "Sounds like a plan."

**oOo**

We walk until the time arrives to set up camp if we want to finish before it gets dark out. After making camp in a patch of woods just of the road, I help Gabriel with the harder to reach buckles on his armor.

"Thanks, Rahna." He lets the armor drop to the ground and then winces and rubs his shoulder. "Ah, sod."

"What?" I look up from digging through my pack for food.

"Nothing." He shakes his head. "My shoulder's just a little sore, that's all. It'll be fine." He shoves up the sleeves of his shirt and starts cleaning his armor.

"So, how adventurous are you feeling tonight?" I asked, my tone just this side of innocent.

"Depends." Gabriel huffs upward to get his bangs out of his eyes. "Why're you asking?"

"I found dry wood, so I could _try_ cooking." I shrug. "But I'm not the best cook, my food's usually just barely paletable, so if you'd rather stick to dried meat it won't hurt my feelings at all."

He chuckles and returns his attention to the armor. "Well, in that sense...why not? It can't be worse than my cooking. Or what servants had to eat. Both of which I've managed to live on before."

"Alright, then." I smirk as I start preparing the food. If he's willing to take the risk, I'm not going to pass up a chance for hot food rather than dried meat. "Don't say I didn't warn you if this turns out horrible."

"Noted." Gabriel grins. "I even promise not to tease you about it _too_ much."

"I really will push you into the mud if you do," I threaten with a laugh.

**oOo**

The stew I manage to scrape together is actually decent, at least when I taste it as it's cooking. Not on par with Leliana's cooking, but definitely edible, which makes me very happy. Still, it needs _something_, some extra herb or something for a little more flavor. After about five taste tests I figure it out. "Gabriel, can you keep an eye on this? I need to go look for deep mushrooms." I stand, looking into the surrounding woods to figure out the best place to start looking.

"Rahna, I'm not done with cleaning my armor yet," he points out, frowning as he chips away at a particularly stubborn streak of mud with a fingernail. "And I told you I'm a horrible cook."

"You don't have to actually _do_ anything," I reply. "Unless it starts to boil over, which I doubt will happen."

"Fine, fine," he acquiesces. "Just don't take too long."

"Alright," I chuckle. "I'll try." I've barely reach the edge of our campsite when the taint mingled in my blood whispers a faint warning and a quiet growl rumbles out from between the nearby trees. I freeze, then start backing toward where my swords rest against a tree stump near the fire. "Did...you hear that?"

Gabriel nods, setting aside his armor and reaching for his sword and shield. "I did."

The fractional second of warning is all we get, but it's enough that we're not caught completely off-guard when the bereskarn lurches out of the woods with a roar. It still manages to bat me aside before I can inflict any damage. I yelp as my back slams against the stone ring surrounding the fire, almost losing my grip on my swords as pain flares down the length of my spine. Whether because I'm closer, or because some instinct tells it I should be its first concern since I'm still wearing my armor, the tainted bear's attention remains on me. Fetid breath rushes against my face, feeling almost cool when compared to the heat of the fire inches from my back.

Gabriel lets out a yell as he charges forward, drawing its attention and giving me a chance to recover. I roll onto my stomach and push up onto hands and knees as the bereskarn roars in pain. Still fighting the agony coiling around my spine-even if nothing broke, that sodding _hurt_-I glance over in time to see the ghoul stumble back a pace, one massive shoulder now bleeding heavily.

"Rahna, hurry up!" Gabriel hollers, dodging a swipe from the creature's huge paw.

_I'm trying!_ my brain screams. I know he's teasing death far more than I would be; he doesn't have _any_ armor, other than his shield. "Working on it!" I call, managing to give enough volume to the words that he hears me.

"Work _faster_!"

I use a rock to get myself more upright-but still kneeling-as the pain settles to a dull, ignore-able ache. _We're going to need some help_. It's hard to concentrate on anything other than the fight raging a few feet away, but I force myself to ignore it and give full attention to the familiar syllables as I whisper them-

"_**Rahna!**_"

_Come on, come on, hear me, damn it!_

The berskarn roars, nearly destroying my focus, just as I feel something _shift_, for lack of a better word. _It worked. I can feel it._ I scramble to my feet, hands tightening on the hilts of my swords as I wheel to join the fight. _What I wouldn't give to have a mage..._ This would be so much easier. _I sodding wish you were here right about now, Jowan._

Two things happen at almost the same moment. The bereskarn times a strike perfectly, its claws evading Gabriel's shield and sending him tumbling. And a huge wolf hurtles out of the woods and latches onto the curve where the tainted bear's shoulder joins its neck. Praying Gabriel's not too seriously hurt, I charge forward and bury both of my swords in the bereskarn's uninjured shoulder. It jerks, shudders, and bellows in pain as it whirls to face me, managing to dislodge the wolf's hold on its neck and wrench free of my blades in the same move. _Time to use those shadow hugging abilities Kiv taught you..._ I dodge to the side, melting into the shadows cast by the campfire long enough that it turns its attention to the snarling wolf now biting at its legs. Now that it's distracted, I attack from the back, grabbing a handful of oily, matted fur and hauling myself up onto its back. It spins wildly, nearly throwing me off. I hold on with one hand and drive a sword into its back with the other.

What would have been a killing blow on any other bear seems to only enrage this one even further, and it rears up, throwing me off before slamming down inches from the wolf's head. The wolf nearly bolts then, but I manage to make it stay.

Gabriel staggers to his feet, swearing-loudly-in Orlesian, and charges forward, heedless of the growing crimson blotch on the side of his shirt and whatever wound lays beneath it.

_Berserker,_ I remind myself as I start to wonder how he can keep going like that.

The badly wounded, stumbling bereskarn swipes at me again, but the blow is clumsy, almost feeble, and all too easy to dodge. It bellows in anger and pain and rears up to slam down on top of me, but Gabriel takes advantage of the opening and buries his sword in its chest. It's a lucky stab, one that fortunately pierces the animal's heart, and the tainted corpse crashes to the ground. Both of us stare at it for a second, breathing heavily as the adrenaline fades.

Then Gabriel drops his sword and presses his hand against his side as the fading berserker fire makes whatever damage the bereskarn managed to do painfully obvious-in a _very_ literal sense. "Maker's _**breath**_," he hisses, following the oath with several more Orlesian ones.

"Let me see." I return my swords to resting against the stump as I turn my attention to him, dismissing the wolf with a nod. It blinks at me twice before trotting off into the woods with a howl.

Gabriel shakes his arm free of his shield, letting it drop alongside the rest of his armor with a clang. He pulls off his shirt, hissing in pain-and looking downright _pissed_-as the fabric sticks to the wound. I can't help but wince at the sight of the three parallel gashes torn along his ribcage, ending just shy of the long, diagonal scar down the center of his chest.

"Sweet Andraste, those look bad," I mutter.

"They _feel_ even worse," Gabriel retorts.

"Sit down and shut up. I haven't had to patch anybody up in a while, and I don't need you talking to mess me up," I snap, sorry for my tone even as I speak, but already mentally cataloguing what needs to be done. And not planning to say a word about the dull, nettlesome ache still plaguing my spine. I can ignore it.

_Let's see, I have to stitch it up, I'll need bandages-Oh, Maker's blood!_ I grab a rag and yank the miraculously untouched pot of stew off the fire. This is the first time in my life I've managed to prepare a decent meal, and Maker help me, I think we're going to need it after this. "Gabriel, are the bandages and poultices in your pack? I don't have any in mine."

He nods, presing what's left of his shirt against his side. "They are. Go right ahead and find them; I don't want to bleed all over everything."

I reach for the battered pack, already feeling nervous about having to patch him up. I'm rather out of practice. _Now I really, __**really**__ sodding wish you were here, Jowan..._

_A/N: Maker, the transition into the fight took forever to figure out. Seriously, I knew I wanted it to happen, I knew how the chapter was going to start, but it took almost three days to figure out how to move from one to the other. Fighting the bereskarn was mostly so I could figure out how to write the Ranger spec for further down the road, but it was also a really fun fight from a writing standpoint . Having Gabriel get hurt...let's just say two injuries seems to be the minimal requirement of landing on my favorite characters list(Rahna had three, Jowan had two in Aftermath). xD And gee, I guess it'll take a little longer for them to get to Jader now. That wasn't on purpose at all. No, sirree..._


	3. Clera

3. Clera

I dig through Gabriel's pack, trying not to mess things up too much, but considering that he has three nasty, nasty gashes that need patching up, I'm kind of in a hurry as well.

"Rahna, don't worry about messing anything up," Gabriel admonishes through gritted teeth. "I have an aversion to bleeding to death."

"Alright, then." I start yanking things out and pile them as neatly as time allows. It's mostly clothes and food, but there's other things as well; the rag he uses for cleaning his sword, a couple different enchanted necklaces, and a dog-eared book. I set all of it on the ground and keep digging. "Gabriel, I see the health poultices, but there's no bandages." I pull out a couple of the jars, hoping they'll be enough, at least for now.

He winces as he leans forward to look, still holding the ruined remains of his shirt against his side. "Check the side pockets. I could've sworn I packed some. If they aren't in there, just tear up one of my shirts."

"Got it." I check the side pockets and find a couple rolls of bandages in one. "Ah, there you are!" I yank them out and then rummage through my pack for needle and thread to stitch him up. I wish so badly I didn't have to do this. Not that I'll get sick or faint or anything, I just don't like having to sew people up. And I haven't had to in over a year, thanks to traveling with at least one mage pretty much always. There were a couple weeks between leaving Denerim and meeting Jowan, but nothing exciting happened then, and other than that there's always been a mage who could do the healing.

"Okay, all set." I pull off my blood-splattered gloves and clean both my hands and Gabriel's side. The gashes look even worse once the blood disguising their severity is gone, and I wince as I start sewing the first one shut. "Maker, Gabriel, these are worse than I thought."

"I know." He's still gritting his teeth.

"Y'know, if you want to holler or swear or something, go right ahead."

He shakes his head. "That would require taking a deep breath, which would hurt too much. Besides I've had worse."

"Worse than these?" I pause for second to stare at him incredulously.

"Mm-hm." He nods toward the scar down the center of his chest. "That one nearly made me pass out, it hurt so bad. Considering I was in the middle of a match at the time, that was really not good."

"Wow." I turn my attention back to stitching the gashes closed, not looking up until I'm finished. "Hard part's done," I mutter, trying to ignore the way my hands are nearly shaking with relief as I reach for the poultices and gingerly smear them over the gashes. "Those are almost definitely going to scar."

He shrugs, crossing his arms behind his head so I can wrap the bandages around his chest. "Miri likes my scars, so I don't really mind."

I chuckle. "Well, in that case, I guess it doesn't matter, does it?"

"Nope." He reaches for a clean shirt when I finish bandaging him up. I clean up the empty jars, bloody shirt, and leftover thread before serving up two bowls of the stew. Gabriel takes his with a nod of thanks. "I am curious about something, Rahna," he comments as we eat.

"What?" I look up from my stew, which-considering I cooked it-is surprisingly good.

"Where'd that wolf come from?"

"Oh, that's something a Dalish taught me when I was helping them with their werewolf problem," I explain. "Some of them can call on different animals to help them in combat. The better rangers can summon bears or poisonous spiders." I smile sheepishly. "I never got more skilled than calling a wolf."

"Hey, it helped." Gabriel shrugs. "And, by the way, I don't know why you're so critical of your cooking skills. This is good."

"Gabriel, considering you told me you've lived on your cooking _and_ servants' food, you'll forgive me if I wonder how trustworthy that assessment is," I joke.

"Hey, now," he mutters, a smile twisting his lips. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

"Fine, fine. I'm gonna clean up the mess I made of your pack now." I set down my now-empty bowl and move to put everything back.

"Rahna, I can do that," Gabriel protests.

"But you're not going to. First of all, I made the mess, I'll clean it up. Second, if you move too much, you'll tear open the stitches, which will mean more bleeding, and me having to restitch you. And if I have to restitch you, I'll be grumpy. Trust me, you don't want me getting grumpy."

He sighs, raising his hands in surrender. "Fine."

"Go get some sleep." I nod in the direction of his tent. "I know _I'm_ tired, and I didn't get my side clawed open by a raging tainted bear and lose a ton of blood."

"Yes, Commander." He throws me a teasing salute as he heads for his tent. "Oh, remember, three hours before you wake me for my watch."

"Gabriel, I'm not making you take watch when you're injured!"

"You don't really have a choice, Rahna," he points out, crossing his arms. "You can't watch all night, or you'll be too tired to walk tomorrow, and we can't leave the camp unguarded. I'm taking a watch."

I hate to admit it, but he's right. "Alright, fine, you win. Three hours, I'll wake you to take a turn."

"Thank you." He disappears inside his tent and I return my attention to cleaning up the contents of his pack, carefully folding all the clothes, making sure the health poultices won't jostle around too much. The necklaces go on top of that, and then I reach for the book, rubbing my thumb across the worn leather cover. _How long's he had this, anyway?_ I wonder. The gilt has long since worn off where the title was stamped into the cover and the spine, I can tell without even opening it that some of the pages are loose, and the cover is scuffed in several places. It flops open as I move to place the book back in Gabriel's pack. There's something written on the first page. I manage to curtail my overly curious nature and barely glance at the inscription before closing the book and careful resting on top of everything else in Gabriel's pack. _I'll ask about it tomorrow._

**oOo**

I manage to wait until we've eaten breakfast, packed up camp-I insist on doing most of the work-and started off before I say something. "Gabriel, how long have you had the book in your pack? It's falling apart."

"Maker, I don't really know..." he thinks for a second, tapping his thumb against his fingers to count off. "Twelve years, I think." He nods. "My master's sister used it to teach me how to read."

"Edenne?" I blurt out, remembering the spidery handwriting on the front page. He raises an eyebrow at me. "It fell open, and I'm naturally curious," I protest. "In my defense, I wasn't trying to read it."

"Rahna, I'm not mad. I don't care. It was rare enough for a servant to learn how to read at all that it doesn't bother me I didn't learn 'til I was thirteen."

"If it was so rare, why'd she teach you?" I'm trying-and failing-to picture an Orlesian noblewoman caring enough to teach an elven servant to read out of the kindness of her heart.

"She was fifteen and bored," Gabriel explains. "She had to come live with her brother because of some scandal involving one of her friends in Val Royeaux. Her brother didn't want anyone thinking she'd been involved, so he had her come live with him. He was almost fifteen years her senior, as were most of his guests, so she needed something to do so she didn't get bored." He shrugs. "And I loved books, even if I couldn't read them, so she somehow got her brother's permission and taught me how to read."

"Wow."

Gabriel nods. "I know. That book was the first thing I ever owned, so I guess I hold on to it because of that. Even if the pages are falling out, and you can't read the cover anymore."

"Sentimental value?" I can't keep the mischieveous note out of my voice. Berserking warriors don't usually seem the sentimental type.

Gabriel makes a face. "I suppose." He trips over a loose rock neither of us saw and winces as keeping his balance pulls on the stitches holding his side together.

"Soon as we get to Jader, I'm dragging you to see Clera so she can heal that up properly," I comment, waiting for him to be ready to continue.

"No arguments here," he mutters, hand resting lightly against his side. "In fact you may not have to drag me up there; I might go see her of my own free will."

I smirk as I roll my shoulders. My back still aches from the fight yesterday, but it's nothing too bad, so I don't plan to mention it. "You must really be hurting. Most warriors I know would have to be dying before they would voluntarily visit a healer."

"In case you haven't noticed, Rahna, I'm a bit different than your average warrior."

I snort a laugh. "Just a bit."

**oOo**

Due to Gabriel's injuries, it takes six days to reach Jader, rather than the three we should be down to by now. True to his word, the first thing Gabriel does-after stopping at his room to get out of his armor-is head for the infirmary.

I follow for two reasons. First, I want to meet Clera. Second, what else am I going to do? I don't know my way around here, and with how easily I get lost, I'd prefer to stay with someone I know who knows their way around. Gabriel chuckles when I explain this to him.

"Well, then, it's a good thing for you I can't walk as fast as I usually do. I know this place so well I tend to walk fast," he grins. "Wouldn't want the Warden Commander getting lost-again."

I shoot him an exasperated glare. "Oh, hush. You're almost as bad as Jowan."

He laughs at that as he pushes open one of the wooden doors lining the hallway. "Clera, you in here?"

"Just a moment," a muffled voice requests, followed by muttering I can't quite hear, and shortly afterwards, the voice's owner come into view. "Gabriel Andras! What are you doin' back here? I thought you were supposed to be in Weisshaupt." The elderly woman plants her hands on her hips as if annoyed, but I can see the smile in her eyes.

"Now, what kind of greeting is _that_, Clera?" Gabriel teases. "Especially for a wounded warrior."

"Maker's breath, what did you do _now_?" she demands, pulling her long silver braid forward to hang over her shoulder.

It's all I can do to keep from laughing as Gabriel protests that this one honestly wasn't his fault. "That's true," I finally interject. "We were attacked by a bereskarn. He was trying to keep it from killing me, and it got in a lucky hit."

"And you are?" She raises an eyebrow at me.

"Rahna Tabris. Warden Commander of Ferelden. I'm on my way to Amarathine, and since the road goes right past Jader, we figured we'd travel together," I explain.

"Mmm." She nods before turnng her attention back to Gabriel. "Well, Ser Andras, let me see this wound."

He nods and strips off his shirt. "Where's Keenan?" he asks as Clera pulls off the bandages wrapped around his chest.

"He and several others were sent to Amaranthine. I expect they're her new garrison," Clera replies, nodding in my direction. "Andraste's sweet bloody song, Gabriel. Did you forget how to use your shield?" she grumbles when the last of the bandages fall away and she sees the gashes.

"No!" He winces as Clera gently probes his side with gnarled and experienced fingers. "It got in a lucky hit. How long's Keenan been gone?"

She shrugs. "Two weeks, three? Something like that. I s'ppose that's why they sent you back here; most everyone's been sent to Amaranthine, with this being the closest garrison to Ferelden."

_So I, an elf, am going to have to keep a gaggle of Fereldan nobles in line with the help of Orlesian Wardens?_ I hope I'm not the only one who can smell the trouble that could come of this. I personally don't hold a grudge for the Orlesian occupation-I wouldn't be friends with Gabriel if I did-but some of these nobles probably do. I lean against the wall as my back spasms slightly. I suddenly have a headache.

"Who all was sent?"

"Ah, Keenan, Kristoff, Geoffrey, Anton, almost all of 'em." Clera summons a healing spell and directs it to the wounds. Three narrow scars still show on his side when the spell fades, but other than that, he's as good as new.

"Thanks, Clera. I think I should go find Gerard, see what he needs me to do," Gabriel remarks as he pulls his shirt back on.

The mage nods. "Good idea. He did seem a little harried when I saw him last."

I push off the wall to follow Gabriel, and can't suppress a yelp as pain spirals down my spine. _Guess that bereskarn did more damage than I thought..._ I wince as the pain fades. "I'm fine," I mutter.

"Liar," Gabriel shoots back. "You're all pale. Clera, see what you can do. I'm off to meet with Gerard." He vanishes down the hallway.

_I'm gonna kill him..._ "Clera, really, I'm fine," I protest.

"I don't think you are. Off with that armor, young lady, and let me see," she commands.

I obey with a sigh. _I see what Gabriel meant._

_A/N: Now I totally love Clera. Figures. *eyeroll* Oh, well. Best guess, one or two more chapters before Rahna moves on and there's no more Gabriel. This depresses me. I'll probably write oneshot fluff with him and Miri when I get to that point... just, y'know, to warn you. =) And another warning: I'm going to play with/tweak the events of Awakening just a hair. Mostly the beginning; then I'll be faithful to the game's storyline, at least for the most part. Oh, and the thing about Rahna learning the Ranger spec from the Dalish...I figured that made more sense than buying a manual in Denerim. xD_


	4. Lucky Me

4. Lucky Me

"Maker's breath," Clera mutters when I get my armor off and let her pull up my shirt so she can see my back.

"What?" I try to twist around and look, but of course I can't see.

"The whole middle of your back is black and blue m'dear," she informs me dryly. "And..." she pauses and I feel the tingle of magic against my skin. "It seems you have a couple of ribs with hairline fractures back here." She presses gently just to the left of my spine and I let out a yelp that mimics the one of a few moments ago almost perfectly. "I don't suppose you were planning on letting Gabriel know about those, were you?"

"Clera, I didn't even know it went beyond bruises," I protest. "I thought I was just sore and it would pass. Beside, he was practically bleeding to death; I was just a little preoccupied with stitching him up. And speaking of Gabriel, who's this Gerard he went off to meet?" I ask, attempting to get the conversation off my mule-headed downplaying of my injuries.

"The commander of this base. Essentially what you will be for Amaranthine."

"Ah." I fall silent as the healing spell she summons wraps itself around almost-broken bones and trickles over deep bruises. "Maker, that feels good."

"I'm sure it does. What caused all this?"

"The bereskarn knocked me aside, and my back hit the ring of stones around our fire," I explain. "It hurt, but I didn't know anything had even come close to breaking because of it. Now I'm surprised it didn't."

"And this was how long ago?" Clera asks as she lets my shirt fall back down and hands me my armor.

"Almost a week. We weren't that far from Jader, but Gabriel couldn't walk as fast after that, on account of those gashes, so it took longer than it would've normally."

"A week? You must have a bloody high threshhold for pain."

"I do actually," I admit. "Lucky me. And thanks for healing it up." I roll my shoulders.

"If I can make a suggestion, Commander, if I were you, I would go talk to Gerard. Learn a little about the men you'll be commanding in Amaranthine."

"Excellent idea." I finish putting my armor back on. "Where would I find him?" _Maker, please don't let me get lost._

**oOo**

For once He seems to have heard me. After Clera tells me how to find the commander's office, I only take wrong turns twice, and both times I manage to self correct, which leaves me ridiculously proud of myself. _Wish Jowan and Zev could've seen that,_ I smirk as I rap on the doorframe of the office.

The blond man standing by the window turns to look at me. "Yes?"

"Commander Gerard?"

He nods. "Aye. That would be me." His accent is similar to Riordarn's; a mix of Fereldan and Orlesian.

"Rahna Tabris. I'm to be the new commander in Amaranthine, and Clera suggested I talk to you to learn what the Wardens you sent there are like."

"You arrived with Andras, did you not?" he asks slowly.

"I did, ser." I step inside the office. "The First Warden decided since Gabriel was no longer needed at Weisshaupt he could come back, and since I had to pass Jader on my way to Amaranthine, it only made sense that we travel together this far."

"I see. And you want to know what exactly about you new garrison?" He sits behind the desk and motions for me to take the opposite chair.

I shrug as I move to take it. "Anything you feel I should know. I already know a bit about Keenan, due to him and Gabriel being such good friends. I've heard about him."

Gerard chuckles. "I'm sure you have. Even here, when the two of them weren't doing something together, they were bragging about each other. Were they not different races entirely, you might have thought them brothers."

"So then, maybe you should tell me about the others, and I'll let Gabriel fill me in the rest of the way on Keenan."

The Commander nods and thoughtfully brushes one hand through his close-cropped hair. "That sounds like a good plan. Let's start with Anton, shall we..."

**oOo**

After spending a couple hours being filled in on my soon-to-be garrison, I follow a guide to a guest room they prepared for me. The first thing I do is strip off my armor and set it on top of the trunk at the foot of the bed. Second is to flop on the bed, crossing my arms behind my head and staring at the ceiling, half hoping I'll fall asleep. Unfortunately, my mind is too busy trying to figure out what tasks will be best suited for which one of the Orlesian Wardens, how in Thedas I'm going to manage ruling Fereldan nobles as an elf, and various other details and such about my impending position to even approach falling asleep.

And then someone knocks on my door.

"Yes?" I raise my voice slightly to ensure they hear me.

"It's Gabriel. Can I come in?"

"Of course." I roll onto my side as he enters, resting my chin on my hand. "What's up?"

He shrugs, leaning against the wall by the window. "Just wanted to make sure you'd found your room and gotten settled in, that's all."

"Well, as you can see, yes, and yes. I also talked to Commander Gerard." I bite my lip and pick at a loose thread in my blanket. "Gabriel, I'm...well, not _scared_ exactly..."

"Apprehensive? Concerned? Worried?" he offers with a teasing smile.

"All of the above, thank you, ser," I shoot back. "I'm worried about keeping order in Amaranthine, of all places, as an_ elf_ in charge of a garrison-full of _Orlesian Wardens_. I know all Wardens are Wardens first and then race or nationality second, but they don't know that," I groan, sitting up and meeting his eyes. "I hope I'm not getting in over my head."

He snorts in disbelief. "Rahna, you're the bloody hero of Ferelden. I would hope you've proved yourself a couple times over by now. I mean, you defeated the _archdemon_. Surely you can handle a providence of squabbling banns."

"How many times do I have to remind people I wasn't the one who killed the archdemon?" I groan, cradling my head in my hands as the memories struggle to get free. I've gotten quite good at keeping them caged, so they finally relent.

"Fine, I'll give you that, though you'll notice I said defeated, not killed." Gabriel sits next to me on the edge of the bed. "Look at it this way: better you than me," he points out. "I'm an _**elven** Orlesian Warden_." He shakes his head. "Probably the only way it could be worse would be if I was a mage. So at least you're Fereldan. And a hero to boot." He gives my hand a friendly squeeze. "You can do it."

"I know," I sigh. "I'm just already getting headaches at the thought of how difficult it may be."

"Don't borrow trouble. I learned that a long time ago."

"Wise advice. So, how are you going to keep yourself occupied after I leave?" I ask to change the subject.

"Oh, I get to help with training new recruits." He rolls his eyes. "Lucky me."

"I dunno, I think you'll make a great teacher," I chuckle, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Sodding wonderful..." he mutters, still looking less than thrilled.

**oOo**

The next day, Commander Gerard approaches me right after Gabriel and I finish a practice match-which ended up attracting quite a few spectators. I guess that's what happens when you match two fighters who are among the best at what they do. I still won, but this time was even closer than our match after Jowan and Miri left for the Free Marches. My problem is that I keep underestimating him. His problem is that I'm just a _hair_ faster than him.

"Tabris! There's someone you need to meet." Gerard gestured to the armor-clad woman standing a short distance off.

"Coming!" I wipe sweat off my forehead with the back of one hand. Good match," I pant, shooting Gabriel a smile. "Maybe next time you'll beat me."

He gives me a mock glare. "Very funny."

"I thought it was," I riposte before ducking between the rails of the fence that surrounds the training ring and head over to meet this new woman Gerard seems to think I need to know. She removes her helmet as she approaches, revealing a mildly unruly mop of dark brown hair, cut short to tame it.

"Commander Tabris, this is Mhairi," Gerard says in introduction. "She just arrived from Amaranthine to be your guide on the way back."

_Oh, thank you, Maker!_ "Nice to meet you, Mhairi," I greet her. "I must admit I'm relieved to have someone to lead the way. I'm rather horrible with directions."

She offers an abbreviated formal bow, followed by a genuine, if slightly awestruck, smile. "It is an honor to meet you, Commander. There are many stories about you and what you accomplished during the Blight."

I chuckle. "Well, don't believe everything you hear. I'm sure some of them are nowhere near true. Perhaps I can set the record straight on some of them as we travel. Amarathine is a good week or so from here, isn't it?"

"It is, Commander." Her smile seems to physically brighten at the prospect of hearing about my adventures from me. This is the kind of hero-worship I don't mind so much; the kind that just wants to listen, rather than follow me everywhere and treat me as if I can't do anything for myself. I still feel like it's misdirected; Alistair is still the real hero in my mind, but I've come to terms with the fact people prefer their heroes be alive. So I get the accolades I feel _he_ more richly deserves. Lucky me.

"Well, I need to go clean up after that match. When do you think we should leave? I don't want you to just arrive and then have to turn around and leave again."

"Would...would tomorrow be suitable? Or would you prefer another day more?" she asks in reply.

"Tomorrow would be fine with me if it is with you."

Mhairi nods. "It is, Commander. One day should be sufficient time for me to prepare for the trip back to Vigil's Keep."

"Very well," I nod, trying not to think about the fact that means saying goodbye to Gabriel. "Tomorrow it is, then."

"Then I shall take my leave for now." She dips her head in farewell before heading back toward the building.

"She's a relatively new recruit, Commander," Gerard informs me as we watch her leave. "As I understand it, she hasn't yet had her Joining. Probably one of the things they're waiting to do until you arrives."

"Oh, lovely. Another Joining," I groan. Gerard raises an eyebrow at me. "I just attended a Joining not long before Gabriel and I left Weisshaupt. There's a lot of mental stress. I had hoped to not need to do that again, at least so soon."

"One of the more difficult duties of a commander, no?" Gerard sympathizes. "I understand."

"At least someone does," I mutter as I take my leave to go clean up, thoughts of both my Joining and Jowan's dancing through my mind.

_A/N:So, there's the first of the 'minor tweaking' I said might be coming. I've always wondered exactly how long Mhairi's been your guide when you arrive at The Vigil, and thought it was odd you have to ask her name. I mean, it makes sense from a 'I-just-started-this-game-now-who-are-you?' standpoint, but from a more story oriented standpoint, I would think the first thing that would happen when you meet someone would be introductions. If I'm going to be trusting you to lead me somewhere, I'd like to at least know your name. I also wanted to give Mhairi a bit of an opportunity to be an actual character, more so than she gets in the game, at least. So, this might be earlier than you actual 'meet' her, but it works better from a story telling viewpoint. =)_


	5. As Long As You Need Me

**Little different this time; I was missing Jowan too much... ;)**

5. As Long As You Need Me

The ground was harder than he remembered. Jowan allowed himself a wry grin as he shifted restlessly, trying to find a position that wouldn't involve a rock digging into his ribcage through the bedroll. _Just a few weeks in a real bed and already you've gone soft._ After all the time he'd spent sleeping in ditches, caves, and other places he'd rather not recall, Jowan would have liked to think he wouldn't re-adjust to creature comforts-like a real bed-so fast.

Apparently he'd been wrong. Finally, however, the mage found a spot that was relatively comfortable, tried to ignore the snores emanating from Vincent's tent, and drifted off to sleep.

The dreams started almost immediately.

**oOo**

_Darkspawn. Everywhere. Absolute rivers of the twisted creatures clambering over everything, searching for something. They were almost desperate, he could feel it. Confused, lost, searching._

_What scared him the most was that he could almost understand them. Almost. They were leaderless and confused without the archdemon. They needed someone to turn to, someone to give them direction._

_Lost...lost...lost... The mantra repeated over and over again, until something shifted._

_They sensed him. He could tell. Reminding himself this was just a dream didn't stop the terror as the nearest ones starting looking around. Looking for him. He recoiled mentally, trying to hide in the shadows, but they were getting closer..._

**oOo**

"_Gabriel!_"It was Miri's panicked shriek that yanked him out of the cursed dream, and Jowan bolted upright at the terror in her voice. Something had scared her badly enough her first instinct was to call for her lover, even though she knew he hadn't come with them.

Jowan hastily raked his hair out of his face as he scrambled out of his tent and toward hers. "Miri?" The black strands swung forward and he cursed under his breath as he swept them back again. "Miri, what's wrong?"

Quiet sobs from inside the tent were the only response.

Now extremely worried-tiny she might be, but fragile she certainly _wasn't_-Jowan moved closer to the tent, motioning Ashe back. The woman nodded and returned to watching the suroundings. "Miri, can I come in?"

"Mm-hm." The noise of assent was so mousy, Jowan wondered briefly if it was really Miri as he ducked under the tent flap. The dark-skinned elf was huddled in the corner of the tent, knees pulled into her chest, shoulder shaking under her thin shift, breath coming in rapid, terrified gasps.

He'd _never_ seen her like this, and to be honest, it was unnerving. "Miri, what's wrong?" he repeated as he crossed the tent to sit next to her.

"The dreams..." she mumbled, scooting closer to him, reminding him very suddenly of the little girl who use to cower next to him during thunderstorms.

"The darkspawn dreams?" Jowan asked, now even more confused. The dreams might have him, a relatively new Warden-and not particularly brave to begin with-waking in a sweat and feeling beyond relieved it was just a dream, but Miri had been a Warden for over a year now, it didn't make sense she would still be afraid of them. Still, she was, that much was clear.

Miri nodded wordlessly, scooting even closer, until her shoulder was digging into his side.

Jowan wrapped his arm around her shoulders, like he had when they were younger and the monsters in her dreams weren't _real_. He felt her arms circle around him, holding tightly as if to anchor herself to reality. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She didn't answer for a long moment. Then, so softly he could barely hear her, "Yes."

"I'm listening." He raked his hair back again with his free hand and briefly wished he'd remembered to grab the cord to tie it back. "As long as you need me."

"It...It was me and Gabriel in the Deep Roads, fighting darkspawn. There were so many; we knew we couldn't win. It was almost as if it was our Calling, but he's been a Warden four years longer than I have, so that wouldn't really make sense." She pulled in a ragged breath, her shoulders still trembling. "After we'd been fighting for a while, one of the darkspawn finally got close enough and clawed at my arm. The edges of the scratches turned all grey, and...and it was like I...wasn't a Warden, it started tainting me." Her eyes were wide as she looked up at Jowan. "I could feel it _crawling_ under my skin, changing me. My skin went all patchy and grey, and I...and I..." Miri let go with one hand to swipe at the tears running down her face before whispering, "I attacked Gabriel."

Jowan winced. That would definitely explain the panicked shriek that woke him. "Miri..."

"I'm not done yet," she mumbled, hugging him even more tightly. "I...I _killed_ him, Jowan. And not with magic. I just tore into him like I was an...an animal or something and I. killed. Gabriel. I know it was just a dream, but it was so _real_."

"Oh, Miri." He could only imagine, and even that would be but a dim shadow of the full horror, what that would have been like. He honestly didn't even know what to say. As her shoulders continued to shake with near-silent sobs, he settled for simply sitting with her and letting her bury her face in his chest and cry, another stark reminder of the past. Granted, she'd never cried this hard at the tower, but there had been occassions she just needed a friend to let her cry. Now more than ever, he was perfectly willing to fill that role. He owed her that much, at least.

**oOo**

It took quite a while for Miri's sobs to completely subside. From the way she'd sagged slightly, Jowan suspected she'd fallen asleep again. Tired beyond words, and knowing he had the next watch, he tried to slip away.

"No!" Miri whimpered, sounding half asleep and disoriented, her grasp around him tightening even more. "Please don't leave."

"I won't," Jowan promised, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze and wondering if he could sleep sitting up. Miri snuggled in closer, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt as if to ensure he didn't move. Surrendering to his only available course of action, Jowan held his friend close and tried to fall asleep.

**oOo**

There was someone in her tent. Disoriented and not fully awake, the only thing Miri could remember for certain was that she was traveling to the Free Marches, and Gabriel hadn't come with her. _So who...?_ The mental question trailed off as she cracked open one eye and withdrew one hand from her iron hold around whoever it was to scrub the sleep out of her eyes. She blinked as the blurred face of the still sleeping man sharpened and cleared. "Jowan?" she mumbled, frowning as she tried to remember what happened last night. The memory crashed down on her with all the force of a failed lightning spell-not a pleasant experience-and she shuddered as she released her grasp on Jowan's shirt and worked free the arm trapped under his back.

True to form, Jowan didn't wake up. That small bit of normalcy after the horrors that filled her dreams last night forced a small smile to Miri's lips. He never changed. It didn't matter what else happened in the world, it would always take near-heroic lengths to get Jowan to wake up. Still, it was obviously morning, if the light playing against the side of her tent was any indication, which meant they needed to both be up.

"Right, then..." Miri muttered, rolling her shoulders to get the kinks out of her spine. "Jowan, time to get up." She paired the words with a rather vigorous shaking of her friend's shoulders.

"G'way."

"No. You need to get up." She shook his shoulders again. "C'mon, Jowan. _**Up**_."

"Mir, lemme sleep," he mumbled, rolling onto his stomach and using his arm as a makeshift pillow. "'M still tired."

Knowing she was probably the _reason_ he was so tired made her feel slightly guilty, but still, they needed to get moving. "Jowan, I hate having to do this, but you really do need to get up." Miri sighed. "Do I need to go to the last resort method?"

"You wouldn't." Well, at least he sounded more awake now.

"You know I will." She let her hand slide down from his shoulder toward the extra especially ticklish spot on his side. "Last chance," she sing-songed, grinning impishly.

Jowan made a noise that sounded torn between a groan and a sigh of exasperation before rolling back over and cracking open one eye. "Fine, you win, Mir."

She smirked triumphantly at him. "I always do."

"Is that all the thanks I get for last night?" he teased through a yawn, raking his hair back as he sat up.

"Of course not. Thanks for listening," she replied sincerely. "And for not leaving. I know it couldn't have been the most comfortable sleeping arrangement."

He shrugged, wincing slightly at a crick in his neck. "You know me; I can sleep just about anywhere." He reached back and rubbed at the sore muscles, his hand glowing a faint shade of blue from a healing spell. "Besides, I owe you that much at least."

Miri shook her head and hugged him. "If you're referring to what I think you are, I already forgave you for that, remember?"

"I know. Still..." Jowan grinned when she pulled back. "Just so you know, there's about a dozen creases from my shirt imprinted on your cheek."

Miri's hand flew to her face, and sure enough she could feel the lines-shallow as they may have been-pressed into her cheek. She could feel her face getting hot, but simply raised an eyebrow at him and grinned back. "Look a bit silly, do I?"

"You? Never," Jowan ribbed with a cheeky smile. "Now, I think I need to go find out why Ashe skipped waking me for my watch." A rebellious lock of hair slid free and dangled in front of his face. "And find that cord," he amended, sweeping it back again.

Miri managed to suppress her giggle until he'd left.

**oOo**

Ashe was stirring the fire when Jowan emerged from the tent, her dark brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail rather than the usual braided bun. The dark circles under her eyes when she looked up evidenced a lack of sleep probably more severe than his own, but there was no trace of fatigue in her voice when she smiled and greeted him. "Morning."

"Morning." He sat down next to her.

"How's she doing?" the warrior inquired, nodding in the direction of Miri's tent.

Jowan shrugged. "I think she'll be alright. Miri's always been more...connected to the Fade. Her dreams have always seemed more real to her."

"So, last night wasn't the first time?"

"First time she's been so scared she needs someone there to go back to sleep?" He shook his head. "No. First time it's been that bad, though. I've never seen her that upset. And considering what she was dreaming about, I can't really blame her. The way she didn't want me to leave... It really scared her."

"I had a feeling," Ashe smiled, brushing back a loose curl of hair. "That's why Vince and I switched off watch for the rest of the night."

"Thanks for that." He meant it. Miri needing him so _badly_ had scared him more than he'd ever admit. It was like seeing Rahna losing to the darkspawn near River Dane; something that_ shouldn't happen_. The thought of his other elven friend made something in his gut twinge. He missed her. And after just three weeks. She was another of those things he'd just...gotten used to having around.

Ashe shrugged off his thanks. "She needed you, Jowan. It was the least we could do to let you be there for her."

_Like I wasn't before..._Jowan mentally amended the sentence. "Like I said, thanks for that."

_A/N: So, I decided I missed Jowan and Miri too much and wanted to give them some attention. I'll probably do this occassionally; flash to them(or Gabriel, after Rahna leaves Jader) for a chapter. I'll try not to do it at cliff-hanger type spots, but noooo promises. And Rahna's the only one who gets first person chapters, to make it easier to tell when someone else is getting a turn, and because I don't have **that** clear a view into Jowan's head yet. =P Back to Rahna next week, I promise!_


	6. Wildly Wrong

6. Wildly Wrong

...

_All of my memories keep you near, i__n silent moments, imagining you here._

_All of my memories keep you near, i__n silent whispers, silent tears_

_Together in all these memories, I see your smile_

_All of the memories I hold dear_

_Darling, you know I'll love you 'til the end of time_

_..._

I miss Jowan. This observation is completely random and born of the boredom that comes with having watch duty in a relatively safe area of Orlais. I also-already-miss Gabriel. Mhairi and I only left Jader yesterday. _Maker, while I'm on this train of thought, I miss Zev. I wonder how he's doing; if he's even still alive._

I shake my head and smirk at the darkness. There's no way Zev's dead. I don't care if he is taking on the Crows single-handedly; I firmly believe he'll come out the victor. I am curious how much progress he's made, though. It's been, what, a month since he and I went our seperate ways? He has to have accomplished _something_.

Mhairi shifts restlessly in her sleep, mumbling something about dragons, which makes me smile. I spent all of the last couple days telling her the true version of my 'escapades', as they've apparently been dubbed by the storytellers. Storytellers that have some things completely, wildly wrong. Already. It's made the trip entertaining, to say the least. Some of the things that have been said, however, were wildly wrong in a way that's more troubling than entertaining.

Like my motivation for killing that snake Howe. Yes, what I'd heard about the Alienage made me furious, yes, what he did to his prisoners was reprehensible, but I did _not_ kill him for revenge or any other personal reason. Though, had I faced him after I saw what was left of my home,or that Valora was gone, or how badly my father had been beaten, maybe that would have been at least part of my motivation. But it was before, so I killed him for siding with Loghain, for being a traitor. No matter what the storytellers say, it wasn't revenge. I worry how many people will believe their version over the truth.

The battle of Fort Drakon has been twisted to scarcely resemble the actual events; painting me as indestructible, and Alistair as a lucky fool who got in the last blow and was killed by the beast's death throes. _That_ makes me feel murderous toward said storytellers, but I can't really correct them without giving away Grey Warden secrets, so I'll have to grit my teeth and take it. I wish, however futilely, for Zev or Jowan so I can vent to someone who will understand why that makes me so sodding furious. _Trivializing Alistair's sacrifice is bad enough, but I hardly walked away from that fight physically unscathed, either_. I trail one finger down the scar marking my face again. _I still remember, my love._

**oOo**

Nothing happens during my watch, and Mhairi proves to be easily awakened for hers. I have to smirk in the general direction of the sky as I lay down to get some sleep; the contrast between her and the mage that I _used_ to have to wake for watch duty is too great to ignore. Another pang twists my stomach as I rolled over and bury my face in my pillow. _No. I'm not dwelling on people I've said goodbye to, not Jowan, not Zev, not Miri, not Gabriel. None of them._ I close my eyes and try to sleep.

**oOo**

_"What is it this time, love?" Alistair is giving me that tolerant smile I used to see whenever he knew something was bothering me. _

_I smile in defeat as I join him sitting near the fire. I'm used to the way the Fade makes his feature...flicker every so often, for lack of a better word, so I pay it no mind when it happens as I meet his eyes. "What's what?"_

_He doesn't buy the attempted innocence in my tone. "Rahna, I know you well enough to see something has you all worked up. Even though I can't do anything about it, I know it'll help you to vent. So vent."_

_"Some of the things Mhairi's told me. About the way people talk about the battle on Fort Drakon." I huff in frustration. "They make me sound invincible, say you got lucky with the killing blow and then were killed by the dragon's death throes. They're so __**wrong**__, but I can't say a sodding word," I don't even try to keep the pique out of my voice. This is Alistair, after all. Even dead, even in the Fade, I'm not hiding anything from him._

_He chuckles. "Ah, Rahna. You didn't think things like this would happen? The bards had to get their hands on your story-"_

_"__**Our**__ story," I protest._

_"Fine, __**our**__ story sooner or later, and exaggeration is the name of the game for them.." He brushes back the rebellious wisps of hair falling in my eyes and smiles. "And I did feel rather like an incredibly lucky fool to have you."_

_A sad smile pulls at my lips. "You never change."_

_"Not now, no. I can't."_

_I reach up to cup the side of his face. "Alistair, no matter how you felt, I was always amazed that a human-and a prince, no less, because that's what you a- were-could love an elven rogue. You were my strength and my shield, and I will never forget you."_

_"Course you won't, not if you keep dreaming about me," he retorts with an easy grin, pulling me close._

_Unwilling to wait, I close the final inch and kiss him. "I hope I never stop," I whisper._

**oOo**

"Your turn," I inform Mhairi as we break camp and head out the next day.

"My turn for what?" She gives me a confused look.

"I've spent the last two days telling you my story, now I'd like to hear yours," I explain, shrugging my shoulders to get the damn pack to sit right. "How did you join the Wardens?"

She shrugs. "It's hardly an interesting story, Commander. Nothing so exciting as yours. And much shorter."

I have to chuckle at the memory of saying almost the same thing to Gabriel. "Still, I'm curious. A story's a story, and it's only fair I get to hear yours."

"Alright, then. Ever since I was a little girl, I've loved stories of kings and nobles who fought for what they believed, were willing to die to save or protect their land and their people. My dream was to do the same. When I was sixteen, my parents arranged a marriage for me to a trader, an older man. He was kind enough, and not horribly ugly or anything, but that wasn't the life I wanted." She bends down and plucks a long blade of grass, twisting it in knots as she continues, "I joined the army then. My father was furious, but Mother understood. I served in the army until after Loghain's betrayal at Ostagar. I wasn't there; I was in Denerim at the time, but when the truth came out, I-I couldn't believe it." She shakes her head. "When I heard about how you and Alistair ended the Blight almost single-handedly, that's when I knew I wanted to be a Grey Warden. Shortly after the battle of Denerim, the call went out from Vigil's Keep, looking for volunteers to rebuild the order. I leapt at the chance. I haven't taken my Joining yet, as Gerard told you, but I'm sure that's one of the things that will be taken care of when we reach the Vigil. See? Not a very interesting story at all."

"Considering that everyone I know who's joined the Wardens, there was some extraordinary circumstances, it's actually refreshing to hear a more 'normal' and less 'exciting' story," I assure her. "And Wardens don't care where you come from, or how exciting the catalyst of your joining is, we take anyone." I smirk. "I recruited a blood mage. Well, former blood mage."

"'Former'? Is that possible?" Mhairi frowns. "I thought blood magic was a once-for-all choice."

"By 'former' I mean that he doesn't use the blood magic any more. It cause him enough trouble. If you ever meet him, be nice. He's one of my best friends."

It would be hard to miss the warning in my tone, and she raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, really. What's so hard to believe about that?"

"Well, from your story...the reason you turned down the ritual..." she shrugs. "I'm just having trouble figuring out why you would recruit a blood mage if you're so strongly opposed to blood magic."

"Because I'd had almost two months to get to know him by the time I said something about him joining the order," I explain. "He's not a bad person, he just made some really bad choices. He's sorry for them, he's tried like crazy to make up for his mistakes, and I thought he deserved a second chance. Besides, he now hates the idea of using blood magic almost as much as I do, thanks to...some things that happened to him because of it." Fellow Warden she may be, but the only way Mhairi is learning Jowan's whole story is if _he_ tells her.

At the moment, I can see the slight frown still creasing her forehead as she tries to reconcile the image of the blood magic hating Hero of Ferelden counting a maleficar among her best friends. "I...I see, Commander." She nods.

"Sorry, I don't mean to jump down your throat like that. I just miss him-and several other friends of mine-rather badly, and that's making me get touchy. And maybe a tad grouchy."

"It's alright. I understand." She smiles. "When I first joined the army, I missed my sister so much, I wanted to punch anyone who brought up family."

"You have a sister? What's she like?"

Her smile turns sad. "I _had_ a sister. A year older, and my complete opposite. When I joined the army, she married the merchant I had been promised to-quite willingly, at least according to my father. There...there was a plague outbreak down at the docks a couple years later. She didn't survive the first wave."

"I'm sorry. Were you close?"

"Close enough," Mhairi replies quietly, her expression closing off the way mine does when Alistair gets mentioned.

I can take a hint, so I drop that path of inquiry. "So, you came to Jader _just _to be my guide back to Amaranthine?"

She nods.

"My hopelessness with directions is_ that _well-known?" I mutter in despair.

"Oh, no, no, no," she assures me. "We didn't want you traveling alone. The darkspawn are still a threat, if less so than during the Blight, and skilled as you may be, ten or twenty to one is still not promising."

A memory of River Dane flashes through my mind as I chuckle and agree with her. "True."

**oOo**

We reach the Imperial Highway a few hours later. Fortunately, it runs all the way to Amaranthine, so there will be no more cutting cross-country, and we'll travel faster. I find it mildly funny that this time, I'm not traveling with anyone trying to hide from _some_one. I have no maleficar or defecting assassin, just an idealistic new recruit. Much as Jowan and Zev mean to me, it's nice to not be watching my back constantly. I could maybe even get used to this. A small chuckle escapes my lips at that thought, and Mhairi raises an eyebrow.

"Sorry. It's just nice to be able to pass so close to the Circle tower without having to be doubly on my guard. About how long d'you think before we reach Amaranthine?"

"Another week, if we walk fast and don't rest much, I believe."

"Right then. Can't wait to get there." I chuckle. "Compared to everything else I've done, things will finally be relatively easy."

_A/N: Why, yes, I like having my characters say deliciously ironic things. Why do you ask? xD I know there's no in-game basis for Mhairi having a sister, I just felt like giving her one. If I'm forgetting some dialogue where she says she's an only child, you have but to remind me. It's been a while since I played the beginning of Awakening. Also, I think I'm gonna having trouble killing her... I know it has to happen, it's in the game, and I'm not tweaking things __**that **__much. Lyrics at the beginning are from Within Temptation's 'Memories'. Whole song fits Rahna and Alistair rather well, imo._


	7. Timely Arrival

7. Timely Arrival

We make good time following the Imperial Highway. Mhairi and I walk at about the same pace, so it works out perfectly; neither of us has to slow down to make sure the other can keep up. Much better than before, when I know Jowan was making himself walk more slowly so I could keep up, and Zev usually ended up waiting for both of us as a result.

The journey to Amaranthine, more specifically Vigil's Keep, is uneventful to the point of boring. Until we're within a few minutes of the fortress itself. That's when the familiar vertigo rips through me, strong and pressing and _everywhere_.

_Something's not right here._

"Commander?" Mhairi turns, concern in her voice. "What is it?"

"Darkspawn," I mutter, shaking my head to clear my senses so I can try and figure out exactly where the bastards are. That's when I realize the reason the sense is pressing in so hard; they're literally everywhere. "Just once I'd like things to _stay boring_ for a while," I groan, reaching for my swords. "Stay alert; things are about to get interesting."

To her credit, Mhairi doesn't protest, or question me when there's no _visible_ threat; she just pulls out her sword and makes sure her shield is firmly on her arm. "Right." I can tell she's nervous; poor girl has probably never fought darkspawn before, but she's willing and able to tamp that down and do what she has to. I'm seeing a lot of promise here. I wasn't exactly ready either my first time fighting darkspawn. If memory serves, I nearly threw up. Probably would have if I'd had the chance. Gutting a pig like Vaughan is worlds different from ramming your sword in the chest of something that smells like death and looks even worse.

Thankfully, that train of thought is interrupted before I can delve too deep into memories I'd just as soon leave buried. The man headed our way is stumbling, covered in blood, breathing hard, and clearly terrified.

I would be too, if I had three darkspawn after me and wasn't a Grey Warden. Mhairi and I move forward, and I easily fall back into the fighting style best suited for working with a warrior who uses a sword and shield. It's second nature, even though it's been so long.

My blades sink into the genlock's neck, piercing deep, and it goes down with a gurgle as I wheel to help the soldier, slicing across the back of the second genlock's knees. It stumbles, growls, and turns to face me. Mhairi slams her shield into it and the creature tumbles to the ground. The soldier swings his mace in a furious arc that smshes the skull of the third genlock as Mhairi and I make short work of ours.

The man doesn't realize his target is dead, and keeps slamming his mace into its skull until I rest a restraining hand on his arm. "It's dead, soldier."

He jerks, turns, and his eyes widen. "It's you, isn't it? The Hero of Ferelden! Oh, thank the Maker!"

I don't have time for this. "Where are the other Wardens?"

He shrugs, fear still plain on his face. "There was someone right beind me, a mage. He might have been a Warden, I dunno. All I heard was screams and people dying; I got out as fast as I could and ran into these..." He looks down at the mangled genlock by his feet and shudders. "You have to help them. You have to do something!"

_Of course, __**I**__ have to do something, I'm** always **the one to do something about anything. Well, never boring is better than always boring, I s'ppose. _"Get youself to safety." He'll be less than no good if we run into more inside, which it sounds like we will. Scared as he is, and clearly not a Warden. I'd be worrying too much about him, and he's just as clearly terrified of the darkspawn.

Relief is plain on his face as he nods."Yes my lady. Thank you my lady."

"We don't have a a lot of time, Commander," Mhairi presses as I watch him bolt down the road, looking anxiously toward the fortress.

I'm aware of this, but something is bothering me. "The darkspawn launched a sneak attack. That's unheard of."

Mhairi nods, her forehead wrinkling in shared concern. "This isn't a Blight. How could they be so organized? I don't understand."

An incredibly unappealing thought crosses my mind. "Perhaps something else is leading them."

"Other than an archdemon you mean? Frightening thought."

"Let's keep moving." We can save speculation for later. When there aren't darkspawn running amuck through the keep.

"Right. Let's teach these evil bastards a lesson." She doesn't look nervous anymore; the apprehension of earlier replaced with adrenaline.

I nod agreement, gripping my swords even more tightly as we move toward the gate's arch. I'm glad I thought to coat the blades in deathroot extract before we got here.

And immediately run into a small group of hurlocks, genlocks, and a shriek. I_ hate _shrieks. Aside from their ability to vanish and reappear at will, and that sodding annoying noise they make, the knowledge that they're the product of elven broodmothers turns my stomach. So I dispatch that one first, ducking under the bladed fists that scissor in my direction and ramming one poisoned sword into its chest. Coughing up blood, the shriek takes another swing at my head, passing so close it clips my ear, and I feel blood start to trickle. "Sod it all, would you just _**die**_?" I holler, Topsider's Honor swooping around to remove the monster's head. The decapitated corpse drops to the ground as Mhairi pulls her sword free of a hurlock's chest. Before we can turn to deal with the remaining few however, an ogre comes thundering in our direction from elsewhere on the keep's grounds. _They can sense the taint in me_, I remember, as I glance at Mhairi. "You want crowd control or big guy over there?"

"I'll take him," she answers, charging forward to meet the ogre, "just watch my back!"

"You got it!" I holler back, facing the few remaining genlocks. "Let's see, which one first?" I swing my swords in opposing arcs, feeling the blades strike all three of the darkspawn facing me. When the middle one of the three lunges forward, I duck and twist sideways, grabbing another genlock's armor in one hand and yanking it into the path of the crude sword, smirking in satisfaction at the resulting death gurgle.

_Whenever possible, my jewel, use your enemies against each other._ My mother's voice echoes out of what seems like the ancient past, and distracts me long enough the remaining genlock's mace actually makes contact.

"Andraste's _**teeth**_!" I think it broke my sodding hand. I glare at it, slash Topsider's Honor against its throat, and allow myself a brief moment of satisfaction as it collapses. Badly as my hand hurts, Mhairi is still fighting the ogre; I can't stop until that's dead as well. _Sod it all, a mage would be really helpful right about now..._ I can't help but think as I wince and slice across the back of the ogre's knees. It bellows and swats me aside, just as Mhairi gathers herself and _jumps_, burying her sword clear up to the hilt in its chest and clinging tenaciously to it as the beast falls, stabbing through its skull to be safe before climbing down. She's breathing hard from the exertion, but her eyes shine with adrenaline.

"Nice work." I flex my injured hand as I look at the fallen ogre.

"Thank you, Commander. What's wrong?"

"One of the genlocks had a mace, I got distracted, and I think it broke my hand." Upon further inspection, however, it turns out it only broke the first two fingers on that hand, though low enough it sure sodding felt like it broke the whole hand. I pull a short length of bandage out, smear it with a numbing salve, and bind the broken fingers together. I'll be slightly clumsy until I can get that properly healed, but it's better than nothing. _Hope this mage the soldier mentioned is a healer..._"Come on. We need to move." We don't even bother to sheath our weapons as we advance further into the keep.

A small group of darkspawn are attacking a pair of soldiers near one of the outbuildings not far off. Even as Mhairi and I rush forward to help them, one falls to a genlock's axe. I feel an almost feral growl building in the back of my throat, but fight down the rage. That may help a warrior like Gabriel, but few things are more detrimental to a rogue than to let anger take over. You have to be able to think fast, change your plan of attack in an instant to best fit the circumstances. One genlock circles sideways to better get at the surviving soldier and provides me with a perfect opening. I ram Topsider's Honor through the weaker leather armor protecting its back and it goes down with screech. I pull my blade free and charge towards the remaining darkspawn, Mhairi right behind me. The beleagured soldier seems to find new energy once he notices he's no longer alone. Between the three of us, we make short work of the remaining darkspawn.

"Thank you, ser. I thought I was done for," the soldier gasps as the last hurlock-minus its head-tumbles to the ground.

"Not a problem. Go wait by the gate."

He nods. "If you find any others, send 'em m'way."

"Will do." I point toward the gate. "Now go."

"Aye, Commander." He limps toward the gate as Mhairi and I continue further in to the keep.

**oOo**

We find another soldier, armed with a greatsword, trying desperately to protect a terrified merchant from three advancing hurlocks. The creature are taking their sweet time, as if they know this prey will be theirs.

Mhairi charges forward with a bellow, slamming her shield into the hurlock closest to the two men. "You evil bastards!"

I grin as I plunge into the fight behind her, swiping one sword against the second hurlock's knees to cripple it before it can reach her and then carving an X across its chest with both swords. _She'll make a __**very**__ good Warden._

_If she survives the Joining,_ another voice whispers. I feel a shiver crawl down my spine and resolve not to think about that right now. It's too distracting, and right now, distracted could get us killed. I duck as the remaining hurlock's sword swings over my head, proving my point. If a clumsy stroke like that almost made contact, let's just hope we don't fight anything more skilled than these. I retaliate by plunging both swords into the creature's chest, just as Mhairi swings at it, her blade slicing into its neck. I pull my swords free as it falls and turn to the soldier and the merchant. "Get out of the keep. There's another soldier waiting near the gate; go join him."

"Yes, ser." The soldier salutes as he and the merchant head in that direction, the merchant thanking the Maker under his breath as the soldier helps him along.

"You doing alright?" I ask, looking over at Mhairi as we take a precious moment to catch our breath.

"Oh, yes." She nods. "Just fine, Commander. Let's go."

I smile at her eagerness as we climb the wooden stairs that lead to a higher level of the keep. _If only all Wardens had her enthusiasm..._

_...and skill_, I find myself adding a few seconds later as the doors to the inner courtyard blow off their hinges-with a little help from a genlock emissary-and the shockwave knocks me off my feet. Mhairi, however remains steady and takes on both of the hurlocks that charge through the gaping hole in the wall. I scramble back up and charge the emissary. We can hear the sounds of combat not far off, so we hardly pause for breath before rushing in the direction of the noise. This soldier is more medic than warrior, and we barely dispatch the darkspawn in time. He gasps out something about needing medical supplies that lie on the opposite side of the courtyard. We hunt them down for him, rescuing a few more of the keep's soldiers in the process. They all speed off the join the others at the gate. After delivering the medical supplies, Mhairi and I gather ourselves and enter the actual keep.

**oOo**

Mhairi is staggered by how the Wardens were so thoroughly overwhelmed. I have to admit, even though I know it's possible, this is a bit of a shock to me as well. However, there's not much time to dwell on this reality, because we've been inside the keep for all of twenty seconds when we're attacked by a trio of shrieks. I finally get a chance to repay Mhairi for saving my neck with the hurlocks near the gate when two of the shrieks dive for her at the same time. I whirl around, my blades a metallic blur, slicing deep into both monsters' chests. They let out matching howls of rage, but are all too easily dispatched before we turn to the alpha. Two on one, of course, brings it down fast. The stairway to the left, the one that leads to the mechanism to raise the grate blocking any more forward progress, is choked with debris and impassable.

"We'll have to go that way." Mhairi points to the other staircase. "We can loop around using the pallisades."

"If you say so," I shrug. "You're the one who knows this place."

We head up the stairs and I yank open the door, tensed and ready for whatever lays on the other side.

Except the sight of a darkspawn getting torched by a blond man in blue and gold Tevinter mage robes, several dead templars and other darkspawn corpses scattered on the floor around them.

_This must be the mage that first soldier mentioned..._ I decide as the flames die and the mage turns around. He starts slightly, his eyes darting to the dead templars and charred darkspawn behind him before his shoulders rise in an 'oh-sod-it' shrug.

His grin is not _quite_ sheepish as he meets my eyes. "Uh...I didn't do it."

_A/N: Rahna, meet Anders. =) Oh, man, will you two be fun to write together. *insert evil, evil grin here* I'm really looking forward to writing Anders/Rahna interactions, because I think their personalities will lead to some pretty funny(not to mention sarcasm-laden) conversations. heh heh heh. I have a feeling Rahna just found a new partner in crime. =) _


	8. Fancy Meeting You Here

8. Fancy Meeting You Here

_'You didn't do it?' I just watched you torch a darksp-he probably means the templars, Rahna you idiot._ Still the look I'm giving him must be something, because he hastens to add to his denial.

"Oh, don't get me wrong; I'm not broken up about them dying, to be perfectly honest." He grins and motions to one of the dead templars. "Biff there made the funniest gurgle when he went down."

I smirk and somehow manage to hold back the laugh bubbling up in my throat. _I think I'm going to like you._ "Not too fond of them, I take it?"

His grin widens. "Oh, I know, I know, _most_ people enjoy being kicked in the head to be woken up each morning. Me, I'm just so _picky_. You may call me Anders, my dear lady. I am a mage, and, sadly, a wanted apostate."

I feel my eyebrow quirk at that, though it makes sense. _Aren't apostates usually also blood mages?_ I'm ashamed of the thought-and the way I almost automatically scan his arms to see if he has the healed scars that were prevalent on Jowan's-as soon as it enters my mind. In all honesty, Jowan's the only apostate _I've_ known who's also a maleficar.

"An apostate? At Vigil's Keep?" Mhairi frowns.

Anders gived her a flirtatious smile. "You weren't here when we arrived. I'm sure I would have remembered such a lovely woman as yourself."

I can't help but chuckle at that as I introduce myself. "Rahna Tabris. And I don't really care what you were." _My best friends are a blood mage and an assassin. What's an apostate added to the mix?_

He raises an eyebrow and give me the same grin. "Pretty and pragmatic. A striking combination. Look, I suppose I could help you with the rest of these darkspawn... or you could just let me go. They'll send more templars to find me eventually, they always do."

_'Always do'? Are we talking serial escapist here?_ I find the idea-and Anders himself-incredibly entertaining. "I could definitely use some help," I chuckle.

He nods. "Then you have it."

"Are you sure about this, Commander?" Mhairi protests.

Anders shrugs. "I can't say that I'm fond of these darkspawn, even if I'm no Grey Warden. Let's deal with them now, and we can discuss what comes later... later."

"Sounds like a plan to me." I gesture toward the door at the opposite end of the room. "Let's go." We need to keep moving if we want to save as many people as possible. There are enough people I was too slow to save on my conscience.

**oOo**

The three of us make our way around the pallisades to the lever that raises the gate. By the time we reach it, I'm already working on various arguments to get Anders to stay even after we finish dealing with these darkspawn. He's saved my neck a couple times, and, well, you can never have too many healers around. He also has this habit of getting closer to the heart of the fighting than is sane for a mage. _If he sticks around, I'll be sharing that Arcane Warrior knowledge I found in the Dalish ruins with him. If he's gonna get right in the middle of the fighting, he needs to be wearing something better than those robes._

This, however, will have to wait because there's still darkspawn to kill, starting with the trio of hurlocks charging up the stairs. I recognize the beginning words of the spell Anders is summoning and hold Mhairi back as the icy magic blasts the darkspawn. Frozen as they are, it's the work of a mere moment to dispatch them.

That problem taken care of, we head into the main part of the keep, finding a few more terrified survivors along the way.

"Get to safety, quickly!" Anders hollers at one cowering woman as he stuns the advancing darkspawn. She scrambles past me and Mhairi without a backwards glance. The warrior and I manage to take out two of the darkspawn before the mind blast spell wears off.

Unfortunately, one of the surviving ones is an emissary, and the first thing it does after regaining itself is trap me in the grip of a crushing prison spell.

"Commander!" Mhairi hollers in alarm, slamming her shield into the emissary as it starts summoning another spell.

"Watch out," Anders warns. The shockwave that results from a force field meeting the crushing prison sends the lone remaining genlock flying. It slams into a wall hard enough I hear its neck snap. I kneel where I dropped for a second, gasping for breath and trying to calm my racing heart. Few things scare me like that spell.

"Commander?" Anders offers me a hand up.

I take it. "Thanks."

He shrugs and grins. "That's what I'm here for."

"Anders to the rescue?" I joke, picking up my swords.

"Something like that," he laughs. "Can't leave the damsel in distress, now can I?"

"Call me a damsel again and the results won't be pretty," I retort, grinning despite myself. Not since Zev left for Antiva has someone managed to keep up like this. It's fun.

"Commander, we need to keep moving," Mhairi urges.

"I know, I know," I sigh. "Come on, you two."

**oOo**

If I had made a list of people I expected to run into here, the red-headed dwarf who breaks off from fighting long enough to wave would have been near the bottom. _What the sod is __**Oghren**__ doin' here? _I shake my head. I'll worry about it later.

"Andraste's knickerweasels!" Anders curses under his breath behind me as one of the genlock archer actually proves to be a decent shot.

"Don't just pull it out!" I yell at him as he reaches for the arrow jutting out just above his elbow. _Andraste's...what?_

"I know, I know!" He snaps off the back end of the arrow and tosses it to the side before blasting the genlock responsible with a lightning bolt.

After we finish killing all the darkspawn, I sheath my swords and turn to look at Oghren.

"Hah, there y'are!" he bellows with a laugh. "I knew you'd show up!"

"Oghren?" I demand, grinning like a madwoman. _Fancy meeting you here..._

"Thought I'd try my hand at becoming a bona-fide Grey Warden," he chuckles, only sounding the tiniest bit drunk.

Mhairi shakes her head. "He was here when I left. I can't believe the Wardens didn't kick him out."

"Heh. If it isn't he recruit with the great rack," Oghren leers.

She makes a noise of disgust. "Yes. A prize for the Wardens, to be sure."

"I know, I know, too good to be true, right?" the dwarf gloats. "Hey, who's the mage?" he asks when he notices Anders. "Boyfriend? Should I leave you two alone?"

I'm torn between burying my face in my hands and laughing hard enough to bust a lung. I settle for a sigh instead.

"Wow, a dwarf that smells like a brewery," Anders mutters, most of his attention focused more on getting the remaining half an arrow out of his arm. "You never see that _anywhere_."

I can't help but giggle. These two will be _fun_ together.

"Huh, a mage comedian," Oghren grunts. "Thought those normally died young."

"Alright, alright," I interrupt. "It's good to see you again, Oghren."

"I find that hard to believe," Anders grumbles as he heals the nasty wound the arrow left through his arm.

"As do I," Mhairi agrees with a grimace.

_That's because you don't know him like I do_, I chuckle to myself. _He grows on you._

"Oh, before I forget, _Commander_-" Oghren laughs. "Gonna take some gettin' used to, callin' ya that. Before I forget, someone else tagged along. Wouldn't letting me sodding leave without 'im."

"Who-" My question is interrupted as just over a hundred pounds of damp, tawny fur barrels into me and gives my face a rather enthusiastic bath. "Maker's breath, down boy!" I manage through the laughter shaking me. The mabari backs off, tongue lolling, still looking absolutely _overjoyed_ to see me. I sit up and hug him. "I missed you," I admit, pulling back and ruffling his ears. He gives a happy bark in return, his whole back end wiggling. I turn to Mhairi and Anders, who are both staring at me like I've lost my mind. "Meet Dog, you two."

"Dog?" Anders gives me a Look. "You named your mabari Dog?"

"I'm horrible with naming things, " I protest. "Guess it's a good thing I'll never have kids."

"Still, Dog?" He looks like he's trying not to laugh.

"Hey, mage-boy, if you can come up with a better name, be my guest," I shoot back.

"Wow, you really are horrible with names if 'mage-boy' is the best you can do," he grins.

I huff in exasperation. "Come on."

"Aye," Oghren nods. "Let's introduce some darkspawn arses to my foot." He grins. "Only polite thing to do."

_Maker, I've missed you, Oghren._

**oOo**

Watching Mhairi when we find Rowland is heart-breaking. I can read the sheer panic in her movements as she kneels, begs us to _do something_ for this man, her friend.

Anders barely looks at him before wincing. "He looks beyond healing magic. Maybe a shot of whiskey for the pain?"

"I like the way you think," Oghren snorts.

"Stop joking! This isn't funny!" Mhairi cries. I do have to agree with her on that; she's watching a friend die, the last thing she needs is Oghren's off-color and usually inappropriate humor.

That's when I feel it. Whisper-quiet and barely there, but slowly growing. Rowland is tainted. If left unchecked, he'll become a ghoul before dying the slowest, most horrifyingly painful death imaginable. I swallow hard and utter one of the most difficult sentences of my life. "Put this man out of his misery."

"What? But-" Mhairi begins to protest.

Rowland grabs her arm. "It's...okay, Mhairi. I'm not...not getting better." He cries out in pain, his jaw tightening. "D-Darkspawn...that way..." he manages, nodding down the corridor. "Went...after the...seneschal..." his last sentence fades into a rasping gurgle.

Mhairi fights back tears. "I will avenge you, Rowland," she whispers, closing his eyes. "I swear it." Dog whines and nuzzles under her hand, looking at her with liquid eyes that say 'I understand'. She smiles sadly, roughs his ears, and stands. "Come on. Let's not keep these bastards waiting."

I nod. "Couldn't agree more."

_A/N: I was totally right: Anders and Rahna are a blast to write together. He shall be a permanant member of her party(he woulda been anyway, but shh). And yay for Dog! Yes, that was really the name of her mabari in Origins. I was in a hurry at the point when you get the mabari for a non-HN, so I just called him Dog. We shall see if Anders can come up with anything better. Oh, and I promise, I'm not planning to stick exactly to the in-game dialogue ever time it occurs. The stuff I kept in this chapter was too awesome to cut. I mean, c'mon**, Anders**. =)_


	9. The Unexpected

9. The Unexpected

Mhairi does an excellent job channeling her anger at Rowland's death into doing exactly what she promised: avenging him. The darkspawn in the next room don't stand a chance. Between her, Dog, and Anders, there's hardly anything for me and Oghren to do. I do, however, take out genlock that _was_ planning on backstabbing Anders, my swords slicing into the creature's neck. It falls with a gurgle and I kick it to the side.

Dog lets out a ferocious growl and leaps on top of a hurlock as it charges from a side chamber. His claws tear into its flesh and it's not long before it stops struggling. The mabari gives me a blood-flecked look of triumph before charging off toward the next one. I chuckle. _That crazy mutt has always loved a good fight._

The genlock alpha in the next room bellows a war cry as Oghren kicks open the door. A war cry the dwarf's axe ends abruptly. I chuckle as I deviate toward the hurlock in the corner of the room now that the main threat is gone. It's good to be fighting with someone who knows how I work.

After all the darkspawn are dead, I set about looting the bodies. This is one of the things that disgusted me for the longest time. Stripping anything valuable from a still-warm and usually foul smelling corpse is not the most pleasant task in the world. Now I realize the benefit, and occassional necessity, of it. Still, I complete it as fast as is possible before turning my attention to the locked chest in the corner. The lock is simple, and it's the work of a moment's fiddling to pop it open. "Hello," I mutter, pulling out the lyrium potions inside and handing them to Anders. "I think you'll put these to use better than I could."

"Thanks." He takes them with a nod.

"Everybody ready?" From what I can tell of the fortress' architecture, we're getting close to an exposed section of wall, which may be where we find the seneschal.

"Ready, Commander," Mhairi replies, settling her shield more firmly on her arm.

"Right behind you," Anders chimes in, and Oghren grunts his agreement.

"Let's go." I lead the way out to the wall.

**oOo**

Sure enough, a few hurlocks stand grouped around a kneeling man in silver armor, one with a sword to his throat. The leader of the group, made obvious because of its more elaborate armor, kicks a soldier off the ramparts just as we round the corner.

It turns to its...underlings and _talks_. "Be taking this one gently. We are wishing no more death than is necessary."

I miss the retort the seneschal spits due to my surprise at the presence-and mere existence-of a _talking darkspawn_. "Wha...?"

"It's _**talking**_?" Anders sounds as surprised and confused as I feel.

"Well, let's shut it up already!" Oghren growls impatiently, reaching for his battleaxe. The low growl rumbling in Dog's chest shows his agreement with this plan.

I have to agree with them as the darkspawn turn toward us and the leader says it only wants me alive. "Go get 'em, boy!" I order Dog. He charges forward, bowling over the genlock, his claws tearing at its throat. As the other three concentrate on the darkspawn leader, I move in to help Dog with crowd control, slashing my swords against the legs of the nearest hurlock to cripple it, then finish it off with a blade to the chest, whirling just in time to block the descending sword of the last hurlock. It pushes against me for a moment, but then Dog jumps it, pinning the screeching creature to the ground and ruthlessly finishing it off. The ancillary darkspawn taken care of, Dog and I turn to help the others. While they've held their own against the lead darkspawn, it's not dead yet, and they obviously need just a little help.

So I help them out. My swords rasp against the darkspawn's armor, one finally finding a small gap in the links and scoring across the back of its knee. It's not enough to be a real help, however, and really just serves to make the darkspawn even more angry. It slams its shield into Dog as he leaps for it, sending him tumbling with a yelp of surprise.

Anders and I both swear at the exact same time, the precise words vanishing into the cacaphony of the fight. _Andraste's flaming knickers, this thing is sodding __**tough**__._

Finally, however, the combination of a lightning bolt and a staggering blow from Oghren's axe leave the darkspawn vulnerable, and Mhairi doesn't hesitate to take advantage of the provided opening. She rams her sword straight through the darkspawn's armor, twisting viciously before using her shield to scrape it off her blade.

"Everyone still in one piece?" I pant, bracing my hands against my knees as I catch my breath.

The others all nod, and Dog gives a reassuring bark.

"Good boy," I laugh, bending down to kiss the top of his head. I straighten and cross to where the seneschal is shakily regaining his feet. I offer him a hand up.

"Thank you, Commander. I owe you my life." Before I can ask any questions, like his name, or what happened, or anything else, he catches sight of something over my shoulder that makes him frown. "More soldiers on the road."

I groan and mutter, "I hope they're friendlier than the last group."

**oOo**

Much to my surprise, when we reach the front gate, this arriving group proves to be none other than Anora, followed by a cadre of guards, a female templar-I can _feel_ Anders tense at the sight of her-and a man in armor that looks like a silver version of what Cailan was wearing at Ostagar. His dark brown hair is pulled back in a single braided ponytail and he just _radiates_ an air of nobility. I can't help but wonder who he is as I follow decorum and bend knee to Ferelden's ruler.

"It seems we arrived too late to offer any assistance," Anora begins. "My apologies." She actually sounds sincere, which is the only reason I decide to play nice for however long the conversation lasts. Mhairi gasps behind me and quickly kneels as well, pulling off her helmet in deference. "I had intended to give the Wardens a formal welcome," Anora continues, her voice faltering slightly as she takes in the blood still staining the cobblestones, the bodies of darkspawn and guards alike, "This is...unexpected, to say the least." She gathers her composure and turns to the seneschal to inquire as to the situation. He informs her the darkspawn have fled-those still alive-and all the Orlesian Wardens are either dead or missing. Anora seems as surprised as I feel myself. Darkspawn don't usually take prisoners, unless they need females for breeding. "Well, at least the Hero of Ferelden yet lives." The queen turns back to me with an almost concilatory smile. "That is something."

I shrug._ Your Majesty, if a sodding archdemon couldn't kill me, you really think this rabble stood a chance?_ "It'll take more than a few darkspwn to kill me."

Her eyebrows quirk together momentarily. "I would call that bravado, were it not warranted. Now, I will render what assistance I can, but for the most part I'm afraid you will be on your own."

"I came here to join the Grey Wardens! What am I? Chopped nug livers?" Oghren protests.

"From the smell that's actually not a bad guess," Anders ribs, earning a glare from the dwarf. "But good luck, all the same."

Something kindles in the templar's eyes when he speaks, recognition where there was only suspicion before. "You! Queen Anora, this man is a dangerous criminal!"

Anora frowns, casting a glance at the man behind her as if to say 'I have all the protection I need, thank you'. "I beg your pardon?"

Anders sighs. "She means me."

"This is an apostate we were in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice!" the templar explains, her voice simply oozing fury.

Anders snorts in disbelief. "Oh, please. The things _you people_ know about justice would fit in a thimble." He shrugs. "I'll just escape _again_ anyhow."

"Never!" the templar hollers, the light of a zealot burning in her eyes. "I'll see you hanged for what you've done here, _**murderer**_!"

"Murderer? But those templars were-" he shakes his head and sighs. "Oh, what's the use? You won't believe me anyhow."

Anora eyes me. I know she would never step on the Chantry's collective toes unless it would benefit her. Me, on the other hand...well, Grey Wardens are under the authority of no one but themselves. We don't have to worry about stepping on toes. Too much. "It seems there is much else to say. Unless...you have something to add, Commander?"

I grin at the opening. _Do I ever. Thank you, m'lady templar for giving me the __**perfect**__ opening to keep Anders around without having to talk him into staying._ "I do." I look the templar square in the eye as I utter the next sentence. "I hereby conscript this mage into the Grey Wardens."

"What? Never!" she bellows, looking at Anora as if the queen will overturn my incredibly bold action.

_Yep. Right now._ I can't help but smirk. _Anora, you already owe me. If you side with her, Maker help me..._

I don't have to finish the mental threat, because Anora's cool and utterly regal reply is, "I believe the Grey Wardens still retain the Right of Conscription, no? I will allow it."

"If...if Your Majesty feels it is best," the templar manages before she turns and walks toward the back of the group.

I shoot Anders a triumphant smile as Oghren crows his congratulations and catch the mage staring at me like I'm crazy before he smiles back. "Me? A Grey Warden?" He thinks it over for a second before giving a slight shrug. "I guess that'll work."

The seneschal-Varel, he introduces himself-speaks up and explains how he'll be helping me with ruling the surrounding lands before retiring to the keep. The others follow him, leaving me to speak alone with Anora.

"I know we haven't been on the best terms, Warden," the queen says quietly. "But Ferelden needs you now. I-We need you to deal with the vestiges of the Blight before the situation spins completely out of control. No small feat, but I am confident you will accomplish it. Now, if you will excuse me, we should take our leave."

"Wait, Your Majesty." I nearly choke on the title and mentally scold myself for that. _Someone has to extend the olive branch..._ "It's..it's getting late. And with no knowledge, at the moment, at least, of the darkspawn's movements, perhaps you should...stay here 'til morning. It would be safer."

Anora stares at me. The last time I saw was at her coronation and that damned celebration for the defeat of the archdemon, and my attitude at the time was barely cordial. "Are you certain, Commander?"

"Yes. I may not be your strongest supporter, Your Majesty, but I don't hate you enough to let you walk off into a land that may be crawling with darkspawn."

She appears momentarily speechless before nodding. "Very well. I shall inform my guards that we will be staying here for the night."

"One condition, Queen Anora." I wait until she looks at me. "Keep your templar away from my mage."

She raises an eyebrow at my protective-some would say _possessive_-tone, but nods. "Very well. That is a reasonable request. I shall honor it."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, one more question: that man in the silver armor, who is he? He seems to be more important than your guards."

A smile _I_ would describe as 'superior' crosses the queen's face, though she at least has the decency to blush the faintest bit. "He is my betrothed, Hayden Cousland."

_A/N: Explanations next chapter, I promise! This working in as many of my Wardens as possible in one 'canon' thing is fun. =) Miri and Gabriel were pretty easy, at least in retrospect. Hayden's a little trickier. You'll see. And sorry for-once again-practically block quoting conversations. I really don't like doing that, and hate it when it proves unavoidable. Also: I don't hate Anora. Rahna very strongly dislikes her, but I do. not. hate her(despite the fact she's a politician to the core). If I portray her in a negative light, that's because this is Rahna's story, and I'm telling it through her eyes. If I was telling it through Hayden's, things would be very, very different. =P Oh, and Rahna's 'Yep. Right now.' is pretty much what I think every time Rylock protests(usually paired with mentally cackling at snatching a mage away from the templars). Anyway, next chapter: explanations, the Joining, and possibly a new name for Dog!_


	10. Settling In

10. Settling In

_Cousland?_ I frown as the name stirs a half-remembered rumor to the surface. "Aren't the Couslands-"

"The family Arl Howe massacred shortly before Ostagar, yes," Anora interrupts.

"Then how exactly is he still alive? I heard no one but the oldest son escaped."

"I'll...I'll let Hayden be the one to tell you, Commander. It's not my story to share."

I can respect that, so I nod before gesturing in the direction of the keep. "Very well. If you'll come this way I'm sure a guard can show you to suitable rooms and make sure you're comfortable. I have things that require my attention." Things like the Joining, finding out how many soldiers survived, what kind of repairs this place needs. Things I want to ignore long enough to face after a good night's sleep, but we need Wardens, we need to defend and repair the keep, so there's no chance of my wish being granted. I call a guard over and instruct him to show Anora and the rest of her party to rooms in the keep.

"Yes, Commander." The man bows to me, and then even lower to Anora. "This way, Your Majesty."

As they walk off, I sigh and close my eyes, savoring the brief moment of peace before following. Time for the Joining. _Let's get this sodding over with..._

**oOo**

I have to fight back a grin at Oghren's reaction to the concoction new Wardens drink. Only he could drink that thoroughly disgusting...brew without passing out. I agree whole-heartedly with Varel's sighed "Maker help us all..." after Oghren hands the goblet back, even as I offer the seneschal a 'That's Oghren' shrug.

Anders does not look happy about the idea of drinking darkspawn blood. "That's it?"

"Varel nods. "That is it, yes."

The apostate shrugs. "Well, alright. But if I wake up a week from now on a ship bound for Rivain in nothing but my smallclothes and a tattoo on m' forehead, I'm blaming you."

A giggle stirs in the pit of my stomach, but the worry for both his and Mhairi's survival overrides it and it doesn't reach my lips. _Maker, please, I need someone like Mhairi. And a healer..._ My injured hand throbs at that precise moment, reminding me I still need to have it looked at. I clench the other hand into a fist as Anders lifts the goblet to his lips. _**Please**_. My worry for the two of them _almost_ equals my worry for Jowan at his Joining.

I almost go limp with relief when Anders' eyes roll back into his head and he drops the same way I did at my Joining and Jowan did at his._ The healer made it...now I just need the warrior to survive..._ I ignore the pain and clench both hands into fists, as Mhairi takes the chalice with an excited gleam in her eyes.

"I have awaited this moment,"she murmurs, raising it to drink.

I feel like screaming when she chokes, collapsing to her knees and then falling still on the floor. _Not another one!_ Daveth's face springs to mind. I don't know why he's lingered this long yet the recruits who died in Jowan's Joining haven't so much, but it's him that I see as my jaw tenses and I fight the urge to swear.

Varel gives her body a regretful look. "Poor Mhairi. She would have made a fine Warden, Commander."

"I know," I reply softly. _Maker keep you, Mhairi._

The seneschal sighs. "To business, then. Open the doors!"

The sound of quarreling reaches my ears even before the guard captain and an older woman walk in the room. I listen without speaking as the cross the room to where Varel and I stand. They both have valid points about what needs doing. _This is already shaping into a nightmare. Two different directions to go in the first five minutes. Maker, give me strength._

"Garavel! Woolsey!" Varel barks. "The Commander has had a long day."

_One of the longest in my life, _I think as I give the man a grateful look. Their sniping was making my head hurt.

Woolsey wants the Pilgrim's Path, the supply road from Denerim, cleared so the keep will remain supplied. Garavel has a hunter's report of what may be an entrance to the Deep Roads-scary thought, that-and Varel informs me of a missing Warden investigating some reports of darkspawn sightings.

_Too much!_ I feel like burying my head in my hands or locking myself in my room. Or both. _There's only so much one person can do!_ I do learn that Vigil's Keep is simply called the Vigil by those stationed here. Maybe because it's the only unimportant-in the grand scheme-thing I learn, I remember that the best. The rest of it is already starting to blur together.

"I'm going to check on our guests," I say as a way of excusing myself. I find the guard I tasked with getting the group settled and ask where he settled all of them.

He points out the hallway. "These rooms, Commander. The queen and 'er betrothed are in the middle rooms, with the guards going out towards the end of the 'allway."

"Thank you, soldier. Report to the seneschal and see if there's anything else that needs doing."

"Yes, ser. As y' say, ser." He heads for the seneschal's post in the throne room and I head down the hallway. When I reach the middle, I pick a door and knock.

A muffled "One moment" reaches my ears, followed shortly by the sound of someone turning the knob. "Commander," Hayden greets me.

I was really sort of looking for Anora's room, but Hayden will work. "Ser Cousland."

"Please, the titles are for court. Call me Hayden."

"Then you call me Rahna, except perhaps in front of my men?" I return, arching one eyebrow.

"Sounds fair." He nods. "Did you need something?"

"Just wanted to make sure your group had all settled in alright." I lean against the wall.

"Well, I can't speak for everyone, of course, but I'm managing just fine." He gives a wry smile. "The irony of visiting this place after everything that happened...I can't help but laugh."

"I have to admit to some curiosity as to how you survived," I confess. "If you don't mind telling me, of course. I heard the whole family aside from the oldest son was killed."

"They probably thought that," Hayden replies, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits on the edge of his bed. After he pushes his discarded armor out of the way. "Have a seat. This is kind of complicated." He motions toward the desk chair.

"You have my full attention," I promise as I pull the chair out and turn it to face him.

"When Howe's men attacked, Fergus was leading our men to Ostagar, which is how he survived. My father had plans to follow with Arl Howe when his remaining men arrived, and would have left me in charge of the castle. I have to admit; I was excited. That amount of trust spoke volumes about my father's faith in me. However, the Arl's men arrived that night, when most of our soldiers were already gone. On purpose." His hands curl into fists so tight, all the color seeps from his knuckles. "The bastards killed my brother's wife and son, all the servants, the guards, everyone." He shakes his head, standing to pace toward the window. "I tried, I really did, to get what was left of my family out of there, but my father was wounded, and my mother wouldn't leave him, and when I went to find my sister-" his jaw tightens with rage, "-Howe's men got to her before I did."

"Oh." I can see in his eyes how _that_ ended.

"When I found her...what those _bastards_ did to her...I'd never understood the concept of 'blind rage' until I found Rachel's body."

"How old was she?"

"Seventeen. She had a crush on one of our knights, was a pretty fair archer, and very good at lockpicking. Used to say she got bored between etiquette lessons." Hayden smiles sadly before returning to his story. "When I met up with my parents near the servants' entrance, I couldn't tell them. I just told them she was dead and I'd killed the men responsible. They made me leave. Alone." He looks over at me, the helpless, pained rage as clear as I can imagine it being that night. "Tricked me into starting down the passage and then my mother bolted the door from her side. I ran. Didn't have much choice. I couldn't do anything.

"I hid near the far end for almost three days before Howe's men relaxed their guard enough for me to really escape. I headed for Ostagar, planning to tell Fergus what happened and appeal to King Cailan to bring Howe to justice." He smiles ruefully. "Though the deaths I imagine the man dying on my way there went more with 'vengence' than 'justice'. There were moments I hated him so fiercely I felt like I was drowning in it."

"I know what that feels like," I muttered, the memory of what Vaughan did to Shianni still all too clear.

"Anyway, I reached Ostagar two days after the battle. Darkspawn and rotting corpses far as the eye could see. I spent almost two weeks skulking around the darkspawn and trying to find Fergus. I still have nightmares about some of the things I saw, but I never found my brother. I had no idea if he was dead, or had been delayed or what.

"So I went to Denerim; joined Kylon's guards, and spent the year you were fighting the Blight plotting to kill Howe. And then just as I was ironing out the last of the kinks, the city explodes with the news some elf, one of the last Grey Wardens broke into Howe's estate, killed him, and attempted to kidnap the queen. I didn't believe the last part. No group already facing so much suspicion would risk that kind of animosity. But I will admit to getting far too drunk and cursing whoever it was that beat me to Howe." He gives me an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"No apology necessary," I chuckle. "I know what that kind of drive feels like, and I don't blame you for being pissed."

"Since I'd already found out Thomas-his son-was dead, heard rumors to the same effect about his daughter, and his oldest seemed to have vanished off the face of Thedas, I found myself completely stymied in my plans for revenge. I was very, very surly for a couple of weeks until one of my friends in the guard told me he'd seen Fergus in the city, staying at what was left of the Gnawed Noble. Needless to say, I tore on over there to reunite with my brother. He'd thought I was dead, of course. The reports all said that everyone in Castle Cousland was dead. We went back to Highever to rebuild after An-the queen's coronation."

I grin at his slip-up. The look in his eyes when he talks about her... _That's how Alistair used to look at me._ "You can call her Anora around me, Hayden."

"Alright, then. Fergus felt he needed to stay at the castle as the teryn, so he sent me on any diplomatic trips to Denerim or wherever."

"And one of those is when things started to progress between you and Anora?"

He nods. "Our conversations stretched longer, grew to cover topics not intended at the start, and, honestly, I enjoyed them more than I admitted to her. She was the one to propose a political marriage, but I'd be lying if I gave the political saavy as my reason for agreeing."

"You love her?"

He meets my eyes and replies with a simple, "I do."

"I'm happy for you." The memories of Alistair and Nelaros are slamming into me so hard I feel almost dizzy. "Thank...thank you for explaining to me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go collapse from exhaustion for a few hours, before I pass out where I stand." I offer a shaky smile and hope he buys my excuse.

"I imagine your day hasn't exactly been relaxing," Hayden chuckles. "I'll tell Anora you checked in if she gets upset."

"Thank you," I mutter in relief. "See you in the morning, then." I leave and make my way to my room, the next hallway over, down near the end. As Commander, I get the Arl's former rooms. _Note to self: redecorate at the soonest opportunity_, I shudder, taking in the 'decorative' weapons lining the walls, and the portrait of the Arl sneering down from over the fireplace. I don't need a reminder of that man.

My injured fingers twinge as I pull off my armor, but I'm too tired to do more than smear more numbing potion on them and rewrap the bandages before tumbling on top of the blankets and swear to get Anders to take care of it in the morning.

_A/N: So there's Hayden's story. And yes, Rachel was another of my Couslands, she just never made it out of the origin before disappearing to a deleting spree along with two Aeducans, a Brosca and an Amell. =P I think his story makes sense, but if you spot any flaws due to me forgetting something-I'm bingeing on DAII at the moment so Origins is a bit fuzzy-feel free to point them out. Anders and I are also brainstorming like mad to come up with a better name for Dog. Rahna issued him a challenge, and he doesn't want to concede defeat. =D_


	11. Nathaniel

**Sorry this is late; the site wouldn't let me post! *shakes fists***

11. Nathaniel

I don't wake up until the sunlight streaming in through the window-which I forgot to shutter last night-hits me full in the face. But the moment the slightest bit of consciousness stirs, my hand throbs enough to drag me the rest of the way awake. I sit up and instinctively run my fingers through my hair, which results in far more colorful language than is usually heard from me, especially this early in the day. Upon even a casual examination, I can see the two fingers are swollen to just about twice their normal size and hurt too much to even think about bending them. _Time to make Anders start pulling his weight around here_, I decide, heading off down the hallway in search of said healer. I find myself treading carefully, as the wooden floors are rough in spots, and I'd rather not get a splinter in my foot.

"Good morning, Commander," Varel greets me as I enter the throne room.

"Morning, seneschal," I nod in return. "Have you seen Anders?"

He shakes his head. "Not since the Joining last night, no."

"Sod." I wince as another twinge shoots through my hand. "I'll keep looking, then." An idea strikes as I take my leave. I remember how hard that 'increased appetite' side effect hit me after my Joining; I wonder if it's the same for everyone. I know the nightmares aren't, but this is different. _To the kitchen, then._ Even if I'm wrong, I _am_ hungry...

**oOo**

My guess turns out to be a good one: I can hear Anders trying to wheedle something out of the cook even before I reach the kitchen.

"...just a little something?"

"Not on your life, ser mage!" the woman retorts indignantly, and I hear the clatter of a wooden spoon landing on a table or counter. "Nothin' extra, not for anyone. That's the rules."

"Not even an absolutely famished Grey Warden who hasn't eaten for _hours_?"

"No one in the entire keep's eaten for hours."

The exchange leaves me fighting a giggle as I finally reach the small kitchen. "I suppose I did forget to warn you about the side effects of being a Warden, didn't I?"

"What?" He wheels to face me.

"One of the more obvious ones being an appetite just about double what's normal. I eat more than your average human male," I smirk. "That and the nightmares have been the two more bothersome ones for me, though I've gotten better about blocking out the nightmares."

"So those will go away?" He sounds hopeful, which makes me take a closer look at him as I lean back against the wall. He doesn't look like he slept well.

"For some people they do. Mine aren't nearly as bad now as they were a year ago. But other people, no, they never get better," I answer apologetically.

Anders winces and rubs his forehead. "So I'll be dealing with double the appetite and half the sleep, while fighting scary monsters for a living?" He offers a lopsided grin. "Sounds fun. So glad I signed up."

"Sorry." I turn to the cook. "There has to be extra food lying around, if only because of the severe blow the Warden garrison took last night?" I raise an eyebrow at the woman. "And if you've been feeding Wardens for a while now, you know we need for food than normal soldiers."

She sighs. "I was just tryin' t' make the supplies last longer."

"Admirably economic thinking, but I'd appreciate it if you found something for my friend here to eat."

"Yes, Commander," she sighs, turning to rummage in the cupboards.

"Thanks, Commander." Anders rubs his stomach with one hand.

"Don't mention it. I know how bad it seems the first time you feel like you're on the verge of starvation." I gesture to wave away his thanks with my bad hand-as the good one is trapped between my back and the wall-and his eyes narrow.

"Maker's breath...let me see that," he demands. "When were you planning-"

"Why d'you think I was looking for you?" I interrupt.

"Right, sorry." He gingerly unwraps the sorry-looking bandages still cocooning my fingers, muttering apologies under his breath when I flinch. His grip is gentle as he holds my wrist still to get a closer look at my damaged hand. "Oh, Andraste's frilly knickers," he mutters when he see how my knuckles are twisted practically sideways, the fingers themselves zig-zagging in more than one place. "How long's it been like this?"

We both ignore the cook as she plunks something on the table and retreats into the pantry muttering under her breath.

I shrug-no easy feat with one wrist still trapped in his hand. "Since just after I got here, I think. A genlock got in a lucky shot when I was distracted."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Too focused on saving as many people as I could, I guess. I have too many lives on my conscience as it is."

"No, I mean, how did you keep your mouth shut about the pain?"

"I'm used to it," I reply, the words carrying more than one meaning. "And I had a numbing salve that I smeared all over them."

"I'll see what I can do, but this-" he gently brushes a finger over my knuckles, "-is a mess, Commander."

"Rahna," I correct. "Call me Rahna."

"As you wish, _Rahna_." He summons a healing spell, focusing in on the broken bones. "There. They may be a bit stiff from now on, but they're as healed as I can get them." He lets go of my wrist and I flex the offending digits.

Sure enough, they're gnarled looking now, slow to respond, and don't bend as far as before, but they don't hurt, and I can move them. I'll take what I can get. _One more battle scar to add to the collection_, I muse, my gaze on the pale brown ridge snaking down my forearm. It hasn't faded any since that day in the mountains near Warden's Keep when Jowan almost-lectured me for being stubborn about that gash as it healed. _Wonder if he and Miri made it to the Free Marches yet..._ I shake my head and head out of the kitchen, leaving Anders to his 'snack' with a final nod of thanks. _I have my own busines to worry about without wondering what he's up to._ Still, I can't deny I miss him as I return to my room to get my armor before making rounds of the rest of this place.

**oOo**

The private standing outside the keep recognizes me and salutes as Dog and I pass. "Commander."

"Private," I nod in return. "Anything I should know about?"

She nods. "A while back they caught a thief in the Vigil. Took four Wardens to capture him."

I raise an eyebrow. _Four against one? And __**Wardens**__?_ "Where is he now?"

"H-He's in the dungeon, ser," she replies, pointing out the building that houses the cells. "I also have some letters. Arrived right before you did. You want them now, or later?"

"I'll take them now, I suppose." I accept the wrinkled envelopes from her and tuck them inside my armor. I'll read them after I visit this prisoner. "C'mon, boy," I coax the mabari, who's sniffing intently in the direction of the far courtyard. He gives a short bark and follows me toward the dungeon.

**oOo**

It smells down here, the result of years of housing prisoners for man like Rendon Howe. I absently wonder if this place witnessed that man commit as many atrocities as his Denerim estate did, or if he only went so thoroughly off the deep end once he moved to the city. Hayden's story makes me doubt that, but since walls can't talk, I'll never know for sure.

"Commander," the cell guard greets me as I enter. "It's good that you're here." He motions almost contempteously toward the cell and the man inside it. "This one's been locked up three nights now. Good men died while he was protected in his cell."

"Do you know who he is?" I ask, noting that Dog, while guarded, is showing no urge to do anything especially damaging to the thief. That's telling; there's no better judge of character than a mabari.

The guard shakes his head. "No, Commander. He wouldn't give his name. I'd say he was just a thief, if it hadn't taken four Grey Wardens to capture him."

The faintest trace of a smirk tugs on the prisoner's lips at that.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Commander. He's no ordinary burglar, that's for certain," the guard cautions.

"Thank you for the warning, soldier. Leave me to talk with him."

"Of course, Commander. I'll go tell the seneschal you came. He'll want to know what you decide to do."

"Very well." I nod as he leaves and turn my attention to the man in the cell. He's been divested of any armor or weapons he had, of course, but that _glare_. I rest my hand on the hilt of the dagger stashed in my belt, just to be safe, as I step closer to the bars.

The dark haired man stands as I approach, the glare shifting to a baleful look of disdain. "If it isn't the great hero, Conqueror of the Blight and Vanquisher of all evil." He sweeps me with a studying look. "I've lost track of how many times the guards threatened me with your arrival. From their stories, I expected you to be ten feet tall, with lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes," he scoffs.

He may be 'just' a thief, but this attitude of his is doing the man no favors. Even if I do appreciate his refreshingly blunt honesty.

"It's an easy mistake to make, I suppose," I shoot back, crossing my arms.

"I just expected my father's murderer to be... more _impressive_." He must have seen the confusion that momentarily tugs my eyebrows together, because he clarifies, "I am Nathaniel Howe. My family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?"

"Hard to forget a man who tortures innocent people, imprisons templars, and throws in his lot with a traitor," I shoot back, my mind reeling. _I thought Hayden said...no, he said Thomas died, and the older son seemed to have disappeared. Makes sense, a rogue __**would**__ be good at vanishing... So, now what do I do?_ I have a Howe in the dungeon, a Cousland in the guest room, and absolutely no desire to let them catch sight of each other.

"My father served the Hero of River Dane and fought against the Orlesians. But my family lost _everything._"

_And that's deserved, considering what your father __**did**__._ "Just how much did you know about your father?"

"You mean, did I know what he was up to?" He shakes his head. "No. I was squired in the Free Marches. Look, I know you're a hero. You fought a war and you won, and to the victor go the spoils. But what my father did shouldn't harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now." For a moment, the hard anger fades from his eyes as he corrects himself. "Those of us left."

_He has a point, Rahna. Are you really going to punish him for what his father did? The Free Marches are a couple hundred miles away; he couldn't have been involved._ I am curious about one thing. "Why did you come here?"

"Initially?" His eyes harden again. "I was planning to kill you." He sighs. "But then I realized I just wanted some of my family's things."

"Mm." _That_ little revelation makes my decision a tad more difficult. He was going to kill me. Or, well, try. Granted, he changed his mind, but what if I let him go, and he changes it back? "What would you do if I let you go?"

He blinks, apparently surprised that the thought even crossed my mind. "If...if you let me go? I don't know. I only got back to Ferelden a month ago. If you let me go, I'll probably come back here." He shrugs. "You might not catch me next time."

"Y'know, you're not really making the best case for yourself," I point out, noting that Dog still has yet to do more then eye the man-Nathaniel-suspiciously._ He's apparently a better person than this conversation would lead one to believe..._

Another shrug. "I could lie, if you prefer," he shoots back.

I have to give him that. "True. I think I've decided what to do with you."

"Good."

**oOo**

By the time the cell guard returns with Varel, I've very firmly made up my mind. I'm not executing Nathaniel for his father's crimes-I already made Howe pay that debt himself-or a discarded plan of his own. He is not his father; the uncompromising honesty even when it worked against him is proof enough of that. And briefly as the idea of recruiting him to the Wardens-he's certainly skilled enough-crossed my mind, he can't stay here. Hayden will kill him on sight. And since I have no idea how long Anora intends to stay, that leaves only one option: "Release him. I want him gone." _More for his sake than mine. _

"I'll probably just come back, you know," he points out.

_Maker's breath, does he __**want**__ me to kill him?_ "Not the wisest idea," I return.

Varel turns to the guard. "Put him on the road, and make sure he keeps walking." He looks back at me as the guard escorts Nathaniel out of the keep. "I hope you know what you're doing, Commander."

_I hope I do, too._ My gut and my dog have never steered me wrong, and both say this is the right decision. I hope to the Maker they're right.

_A/N: So Dog still doesn't have a new name...and I ended up block-quoting(sorta) from the game again. I hate it when I do that. I also find it sickeningly ironic that my absolute favorite Dragon Age character is one of the the hardest for me to write. Nathaniel Howe, I'm looking at __**you**__. The bit with Rahna and Anders in the kitchen ended up longer than I intended it to be, which is why this chapter is longer than usual. I couldn't find a satisfactory place to cut it off mid-conversation with Rahna and Nathaniel._


	12. A Moment

12. A Moment

After dealing with Nathaniel, I set off to check the walls and the men.

A lieutenant salutes as I approach. "Commander. I sent out the patrols a couple hours ago. No darkspawn in the area, at least that they could see."

"Good. Thank you, lieutenant. I'm sure the queen will be glad to hear that it is safe to travel home." I smile at him. "Has anyone had a chance to examine the walls yet?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet, ser. We know they're in bad shape, but we don't know how bad yet."

"Get someone on that. I need to know what needs doing before we can begin repairs."

"Of course, Commander." He nods and heads off to find someone to do the checking.

"Well, boy, I think that's all I can do in that respect for now," I mutter to my mabari. "Let's see what's in these letters, shall we?" Dog barks his approval and follows me onto one of the few not destroyed sections of wall. I lean back against the corner, hoping it makes me harder to find, and pull out the letters as Dog curls up next to me and falls asleep with his head in my lap. I chuckle to myself and lazily rub his head as I open the first letter. A Lord Bensley needs me to rescue his daughter, Eileen. She was taken by bandits, they want ransom, same old story. I sigh, making a mental note to find a map so I can figure out how to get to Forlorn Cove, and open the second letter.

Goodwife Turnoble's estate is being threatened by darkspawn. She promises to put in a good word for me with Lord Eddelbrek if I help them. I'd help anyway, of course, but if she'll help get one of the nobles on my side...well, anything in that vein is too valuable to pass up. _Another place to find on a map. I hope Anders is better with directions than Oghren and I_. I chuckle wryly as I open the third letter, a grin spreading across my face with the first sentence.

**oOo**

_Rahna,_

_Alright, you're allowed one 'I told you so'. It's not as bad as I was anticipating, the weather or the people. It does rain, but not much more than it does in Ferelden. Everyone I've encountered so far has been nice enough. It's amazing how being a Warden makes people worry less about my being a mage. I guess they figure if the Wardens trust me, they can, too. Or something like that._

_I'm sure you'll be thrilled to know you're something of a legend here as well. A couple of the soldiers' eyes nearly popped out of their heads when I said I know you, and came even closer when I told them we're good friends. I decided not to tell them the part where I saved your life. Just to be safe. _

_But, yes, you have quite the reputation out here. Your fame has not stayed contained within Ferelden's borders, I'm afraid. A couple of the soldiers won't stop pestering me, for lack of a better word, to tell them more about you. Even telling them I didn't really know you until after the Blight was ended hasn't deterred them. I promise not to tell them too many embarrassing stories._

_I hope you're well, and that Amaranthine proves welcoming. And that this darkspawn problem is resolved without too much trouble._

_Your friend,_

_Jowan _

**oOo**

_Jowan, my friend, you have no idea... _Funny how the smallest things can positively make your day. Now all I need is some assurance Zev's alive, and it would be the best day possible. But he hasn't been in Antiva _that_ long, so such a hope is foolish. Still, I feel a positively goofy grin spreading across my face as I neatly fold Jowan's letter and store it in one of the pouches on my belt. _Maker, I didn't realize I missed him this much..._

I lean my head back against the stone and close my eyes, relishing having a moment to myself. I know there'll be few enough in the days to come, particularly if I'm going to be running around helping people with a smaller group than I'm used to. I _wish_ I'd been brave enough to conscript Nathaniel. But Maker help me, I did not feel like trying to keep Hayden away from him.

I'm distracted from my moment of peace by the feel of a furry head pressing against my hand. Dog is still asleep, his head heavy on my leg, so I open one eye a crack to see what, exactly, is rubbing against my hand. I grin at the sight of the yellow kitten standing practically on my sleeping mabari's head, butting its own head against my hand in search of attention.

"You're an awful brave cat," I mutter, scritching under its chin. "For all you know, Dog eats kitties like you as mid-morning snacks."

_Mrawr._ The kitten cocks its head at me, sits very deliberately on Dog's shoulder, and starts bathing itself.

I have to laugh. "You're too much, kitty." I'd swear it-he-smiles at me for that.

"Rahna? Rahna, where are you hiding?"

I sigh. "Up here, Anders." I lean forward and wave to catch his attention. _So much for peace and quiet..._ I gently coax the kitten into my lap as I watch Anders make his way up the steps to join me in my no longer secret corner. The kitten bats at my fingers and mews at me. "Oh, shush." I run my hand down the length of his spine.

"What are you doing up here, Rahna?" Anders asks as he sits next to me.

"Well, I _was_ trying to hide and enjoy some peace and quiet. There were some letters I needed to read, and this seemed like a good place to do so uninterrupted."

"I see. Well, if this spot is supposed to be secret, I won't tell anyone about it."

I laugh. "Thanks for that, but if they're repairing the walls, I doubt anywhere up here will count as 'secret' soon."

"True."

The kitten chooses this point in the conversation to push off my leg and gracefully jump squarely into Anders' lap. "Hey, cat, watch those claws," I mutter. Both the kitten and Anders ignore me.

"Oh, look at the cute little kitty!" the mage practically cooes, reminding me so much of Alistair with Dog that I nearly choke on my giggles. "What?" Anders looks at me. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. You just...you remind me of someone I knew not too long ago." I lean forward and scratch the kitten's ears. "You can have him if you want him."

His eye light up. "Really?" He bites his lip. "I dunno, from what I hear the Warden business isn't exactly safe. And I wouldn't want him to get hurt."

"You can leave him at the keep, if you'd rather." I shrug. "Up to you."

"He can stay in my pack when we travel, I guess," Anders decides. "At least for a little while."

_You big softie..._I know 'a little while' is going to end up longer than most people would think. "Sounds good. Now you just need to name him."

"Mmm, you're right." Anders looks down at the kitten, who reacts by clambering up on his shoulder, curling into a ball, and looking for all the world like he's asleep. "I think I'll call him Ser Pounce-a-Lot."

"Seriously?"

"And what's wrong with that?" Anders gives me a mock-insulted look.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," I giggle. "If you make me laugh much harder, I'm going to fall off this wall. And then Dog will eat you or something."

He scoffs. "I doubt that. Look at him. He's so deep in the Fade he probably doesn't even know I'm here. And besides, I'd sic Ser Pounce-a-Lot on him if he tried anything."

"One question: Can we just call him Pounce for short? Because if I have to use the full name every time I yell about something he does, I'll be kicking both of you out," I tease. "That name's a bit...silly."

"Better than naming your dog Dog," Anders retorts with a grin.

"I told you, if you think you can come up with a better name-"

"Fade," he interrupts.

"What?" I look at him in confusion.

"You should name him Fade. Especially if _that's_ all he does all day." He nods at the slumbering mabari, who is now drooling on my leg.

"You mean Fade like _the_ Fade?"

"Yep." He nods, reaching up to slide the definitely sleeping Pounce off his shoulder. "He spends enough time sleeping."

I roll the name around my mind and my tongue for a minute. "Fade..." It makes sense. I glance at my mabari, who is now eyeing me sleepily, as if he knows we're talking about him. "Whaddya think, boy?" I scratch his ears. "You like the name Fade?"

_Wuff!_ Well, that sounded fairly positive.

"See? He agrees with me," Anders grins.

"Oh, fine, you win. Thank you, ser mage, for renaming my dog. So, _Fade_, what's say we go check in with Her Royal Highness?"

Fade barks and jumps up, as if he's been answering to that name his whole life and his year as 'Dog' was a brief spell with an uninformed master.

"Alright, boy, let's go. Are you and your cat coming?" I ask Anders in a teasing tone.

"Why not?" he shrugs. "I know you'll want to talk to the queen alone, but we might as well come done from the wall." He grins at me. "But after you, Commander." He stands to let me pass and then follows me and Fade down the steps.

"If you pull my hair, there will be consequences," I warn, feeling the light brush of fingers sneaking close to one of my pigtails.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Anders retorts in an innocent tone.

"Sure you don't. Go see if you and Pounce can find Oghren. And wake him up, if he's sleeping."

"As you wish, Commander." He offers a casual salute as we reach the ground.

**oOo**

I find Anora in the throne room. "Good morning, Your Majesty."

"Good morning, Commander." She nods in greeting.

"The men who scouted say there is no sign of darkspawn. Your trip home should be a safe one, at least in that respect."

"Thank you, Commander." An awkward moment of silence stretches between us before she speaks again. "Do you...do you have much that needs doing?"

I shrug. "A few things, yes, but most are easy enough, or things I can delegate to my men. All the most important things involve traveling to Amaranthine, so as soon as I'm sure you're safely on your way back to Denerim, I'll be heading to the city."

"Would you like me to send some more soldiers to help once I return?"

I consider the offer for a moment. "Thank you for the thought, Your Majesty, but I believe my men are sufficient for the moment. If that changes, rest assured I'll let you know."

"Very well, Commander." Her gaze flicks in the direction of the bedrooms. "I need to go see if...everyone is ready to leave. Thank you for allowing us to stay here."

"It was my honor." The words ring slightly hollow, despite my best efforts, and I think she notices. She doesn't comment, however, as she heads down the hallway toward her room. I sigh. _Maker forgive me, I just can't bring myself to like that woman. Respect, I suppose I can do. But I will never manage to like her._

Fade bumps his head against my hand and gives it a lick, as if assuring me he understands. I smile and ruffle the mabari's ears. We need to get ready to leave. Eileen Bensley's kidnappers won't wait forever.

_A/N: And finally Dog has his new name. I actually stole the name I used for my first mage!Hawke's mabari(yes, first; I have about five). Goofy, yeah, lame, maybe. But I like it. And honestly, when named by a mage who names his cat Ser Pounce-a-Lot, what were you expecting? =P Next chapter they'll finally get out of the keep(I hope)! Geez, twelve chapters and I'm barely into the events of the expansion...and here I was worried about it not being long enough... Shows what I know._


	13. Doing Something

13. _Doing_ Something

I manage to make myself wait until Anora's entourage has disappeared back toward Denerim before finding Anders and Oghren. And a map. "Please tell me you're good with directions and maps and stuff like that," I beg the mage as I unfold the worn parchment map of the area.

"I wouldn't have escaped so many times if I was prone to getting lost," he points out with a chuckle. "Would kind of defeat the purpose of escaping if I didn't have at least a general idea of where to go."

"Alright then. How well do you know Amaranthine? Meaning the arling, not the city," I clarify.

"Well enough, I suppose." Anders shrugs.

"Where's Forlorn Cove?"

"Right here." He taps his finger against a small dent in the coastline not far from the city. "Why?"

"We're going to rescue a damsel in distress, of course," I laugh.

"I like the sound of that," he grins, lacing his fingers together and cracking his knuckles. "What are we waiting for?"

"Well, I was waiting for someone to show me where Forlorn Cove is. Since that's taken care of now, let get going."

"Right behind you, Commander."

Oghren mumbles something to Fade as he follows us out of the keep. "What was that, Oghren?"

"Just tellin' yer dog t' leave some for me. I've been itching for some action."

_Because it's been so very deadly dull so far..._ "Come on, you two."

**oOo**

We're barely out of sight of the Vigil when a group of highwaymen attacks us, desperate men with better than decent equipment. They must have assumed a small group like ours would be an easy target.

Oghren seems to enjoy proving them oh, so wrong. Maybe a bit more than he should. Still, I'm reminded once again of why I'm so glad this dwarf is on my side.

After cutting through the bandits like a scythe through grass-an even more appropriate metaphor than usual, thanks to Oghren and his sodding huge battleaxe-I check the bodies for anything worth taking. Some of them are wearing armor that's more or less salvagable, and the archers' bows are still undamaged. Both Antivan, if Zev's given me any kind of an eye for weaponry. None of the gear is better than mine, but we can still sell it. More coin never hurt anyone. We'll probably head for Amaranthine after dealing with the kidnappers, and I think I can manage to carry the extra weight that long.

**oOo**

"What made you take this post?" Anders asks as we walk.

"Not like I had much choice," I shrug. "The First Warden said they needed me here, and so I came. I'm not angry or bitter or anything about it. It's good to have something to do, actually."

"What d'you mean?" He frowns in confusion, absently scratching Pounce's head when the cat pokes it out of his pack.

"I'd been at Weisshaupt only a few weeks when the decision was made to send me, and I was already going out of my mind with boredom," I explain with a laugh. "I was constantly dueling, pacing, waiting for something to happen; anything. I wasn't too happy about having to come without my friends, but I nearly screamed with joy at the thought of having something to _do_. Kiv says I'm just one of those people who always needs to be _doing_ something."

"Kiv?"

"Oh, he's another rogue Warden stationed at Weisshaupt. We dueled a lot. He's the one that taught me those shadow-y abilities."

"Ah. I see."

Something in his tone sets off a warning in my head. "Nothing more than friends, before you get any ideas, ser mage."

"Whatever you say, Comm-Who's that?" he interrupts himself, pointing toward the solitary figure waiting on the road ahead.

"I don't know." I cast a quick glance at Fade. His hackles aren't up, he doesn't look like he senses a threat, so this is probably nothing to worry about. _Still, can't be too careful..._"Be on your guard. Just in case." I reach to touch the swords on my back, make sure they're loose in their sheaths. One is new, a curving, almost Dalish-like sword I found in the Vigil, alleged to be made from the spine of an archdemon or somethig like that. I haven't had much chance to test it-Oghren didn't leave many of those highwaymen for me or Anders-and hope I don't end up having to do so now.

It's only when we get closer to the waiting man that I recognize him. _Nathaniel Howe? Why is he here?_ "I thought I said I wanted you gone, Howe." It feels almost wrong to call him that, but I hardly know him well enough to use his first name.

I feel both Anders and Oghren stiffen behind me at the name, and regret using it even more.

"You did," he replies.

"What d'you want?" Anders demands, sounding decidely less friendly than I've ever heard him be.

_And was that a note of protectiveness in there?_ "Anders, calm down." I lay a hand on his arm, trying to get him to cool it. I look back at Nathaniel. "He does have a very good question, though. What _do_ you want?"

"I..." He sighs. "Why did you let me go?"

"I wasn't about to punish you for a crime you didn't commit," I reply. "What was I supposed to do with you? Lock you up forever?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I suppose not."

"Was that it? Did you wait around just to ask me that?" He's either brave or stupid if he did. Or curious enough to rival me.

"No, it's not." He hesitates for the briefest moment before finishing, "I...I want to join the Grey Wardens."

"What?" Anders and Oghren's voices mingle in a single disbelieving jumble.

"It's not that simple, Nathaniel." _Isn't it? Hayden's gone. There's no reason he shouldn't join, and it's not like you're swimming in recruits right now._

He shrugs. "It's not like I have anywhere else to go. I was honestly expecting you to execute me back there. But you didn't." He meets my eyes, and I can't see any hint of trickery in his blue-grey gaze. "Make me a Grey Warden. At least let me _try_. Please."

"And, what, you think this will redeem your family's name or something?" I arch one eyebrow at him, trying to figure out what he really wants. Fade still doesn't seem any more than guarded-which he is with strangers anyway-so I don't think Nathaniel's a threat, but this can't be all there is to it.

"I don't know," he admits with a mildly dispairing shrug. "Maybe...maybe that isn't even important anymore. Maybe what is important is doing what my father should have done."

"Which is?" I cross my arms, deciding to trust Anders not to roast the man where he stands.

Nathaniel sighs and gives me an incredibly _weary_ look. "The right thing."

"And why should she trust you?" Anders pipes up, still looking dubious.

"Maybe she shouldn't. I just...I have to try. I have to do _something,_" Nathaniel answers.

I can understand that. More than he could possibly know. "Alright. We'll see how you fare with the Joining."

"Commander, are you sure about that?" Anders protests.

Nathaniel smiles-which he should do more often, in my opinion-and finally seems to relax a small bit. "Nothing to fear," he promises.

"We don't have the time to go back to the Vigil now," I inform my newest recruit. "However, there might be some armor you can use in here." I unsling my pack and toss it to him.

"Excuse me, Commander, can I talk to you for a second?" Anders doesn't wait for me to answer before grabbing my arm and dragging me a short ways to the side. "Are you bloody insane? Recruiting a Howe? Even I know what his father did!"

"So I should judge the entire family based off what one man did? Should I also expect every mage I meet to turn into an abomination, just because I've seen some who have?"

"No, I just-" he sighs and tugs on his ponytail. "I don't know how smart it is to have him around. If I end up having to patch you up after an assassination attempt from your new friend there, I'll never let you live it down. Just sayin'." Some of the teasing light seeps back into eyes with that.

"Trust me, he's not going to try anything," I laugh, deciding not to tell him about the original intention my 'new friend' had toward me. "Your protective side is showing, y'know. Cute as it is, you might want to back off before someone gets the wrong idea."

"Wouldn't want that," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I do trust you, Rahna. You just... you're one of the craziest people I've met. And that's saying a lot."

"Oh, I do this recruiting people who wanted to kill me thing all the time."

"People who..._What_?"

_Oops. So much for not telling him. Sweet Andsrate's ass, that's the fastest I've ever broken a promise to myself in...well, ever._ "Nothing." I grab his arm before he can storm back to the road. "Anders, really. It's nothing. He didn't even really try. Compared to Zevran, this is one of the less crazy things I've done, I promise. And besides, I can take care of myself."

"I know. And who's Zevran?"

"Antivan Crow who was sent to kill me, I whipped his tail, he ended up joining my group, and is now one of my best friends in the whole world. Now, we need to get going. I have no idea how patient these kidnappers are, or what they'll do to Bensley's daughter if we don't move it. Just...be civil, yes? You don't have to be his best friend or anything, but be nice."

"As you wish, Commander," he replies with a grin and a mock bow.

_Oh, Maker, I'm going to regret this_. "Then let's go." We walk back to the road. "All set?" I ask Nathaniel.

He nods and hands me my pack. "Yes. Thank you." He tests the string of one of the longbows we just picked up. "This is a good bow. Where did you get it?"

"A bunch of highwaymen we killed not far back. Well, Oghren killed. I don't think I touched more than one. Maybe two." I shrug. "It's yours now."

"Thank you, Commander." He slings both the bow and a quiver of arrows on his back. "I believe I heard you mention that we need to get moving?"

I nod. "We do. I got a letter from a nobleman whose daughter was kidnapped. Those responsible are holding her at Forlorn Cove to await ransom. We're going to...renegotiate the terms of her release."

"And hopefully leave a few corpses behind," Oghren adds with a grin.

Nathaniel smirks. "Sounds like a plan."

_A/N: *glomps Nathaniel* Thank you for being soooooo much easier to write this time, Ser Howe! Even if Protective!Anders was my favorite part. =D This chapter came so fast, it was kind of scary. Seriously, I think it took maybe...an hour? Two? And now, on to Forlorn Cove! I'm itching to write some combat! Far cry from Aftermath, when the very idea made me cringe. ;P_


	14. All I Want

14. All I Want

Getting to Forlorn Cove proves to be slightly tricky. The path is winding, and when we finally reach the spot where Bensley was supposed to deliver the ransom, there's a rickety and highly suspect-looking bridge to cross before reaching the bandit camp.

"Nothing for it," I mutter as I test the weathered planks. "Come on." The others all seem as wary as I feel as we cross the bridge.

A man who's probably supposed to be a sentry catches sight of us and turns to shout toward the tents huddling near the edge of the cliff. A respectable size group awaits us by the time we reach the camp.

"One more step, and poor Lady Eileen dies," the leader warns as we approach. Fade growls and folds back his ears, crouching low, but I rest a staying hand on his head as the leader frowns. "Where's Bensley? The deal was he'd deliver the ransom himself."

"There's been a...change of plans," I reply. "I'm acting on Lord Bensley's behalf."

"Right then. Thirty sovereigns and she's yours."

I scoff, giving the encampment an exaggerated once-over. "I don't see Lady Eileen. I'm not handing over so much as a copper until I see the girl."

He nods to his second in command. "Hawk, show her." The man disappears for a second, ducking in one of the tents, and drags a frightened looking girl who can't be any older than me, and is probably younger, into view. "Now, the money."

I shake my head. _Now for the bold as brass part._ The part Anders and Nathaniel both questioned on the way over, simply because it's so unlikely to actually work. "Send her over to me first."

The bandit looks at the number of men he has stationed around the cove, sizes me up, and then turns to the second in command again. "Hawk, send her over."

I smirk as she passes us, nearly cowering behind Nathaniel. _Told you it would work. _Anders owes me ten silver now. "That girl was the only reason to keep you alive, you know," I inform the bandits.

He spits. "Like you can take all of us, knife-ear. Men!"

"Nathaniel, keep her safe!" I holler as I yank my swords free and dive toward the nearest attacker. Under normal circumstances, I don't know if I'd trust him _quite_ that much, but I don't really have a choice here.

"Right!" He pushes her back into a corner formed by two crumbling walls and stands between her and the bandits as he nocks an arrow.

Eileen shrieks and shrinks back against the stones as if trying to melt into them.

I duck under the leader's blades as he swings at me and then toss a handful of dirt in his face. He bellows and makes a wild swing in my direction. I wheel and step aside, letting him blunder forward into the path of the ice spell Anders just finished summoning.

With him out of the way-temporarily, at least-I focus on the second in command, one of my swords drawing blood just above his elbow. He swears and lunges at me. His blade misses my throat by a far narrower margin than I'd like. _That was too close_. From the enraged yell behind me, Anders agrees with that sentiment.

The bandit pulls back to strike again, but I beat him to the punch, sinking both swords into his chest. They pierce unevenly; his armor offers resistence to Topsider's Honor but not the new sword, and it takes a moment to free them.

The bandit trying to attack me from behind falls just as I turn, Oghren's axe dug a good inch into his stomach. "Pay more attention next time, Commander," the dwarf grunts with a grin as he yanks on the axe's handle until it frees itself. I shake my head as he charges off toward the trio of archers clustered near the edge of the cliff and turn my attention back to the group's leader.

He blocks my strike, a furious breath hissing between his teeth as I abandon all semblance of a plan and ram my fist into his nose. "You're dead, knife-ear!"

"Everybody says that!" I grunt, ducking under an anger-driven blow.

He spits out a mouthful of blood and growls, his rage increasing with the miss. An arrow slams into his shoulder with enough force it nearly spins him around.

_Thanks for that, Nathaniel..._ I grin. It's not a killing shot, but it does distract him long enough Oghren sweeps his legs out from under him. He hits the ground hard, just as an ice spell hits _him_. There's enough force behind my twin strikes that he shatters completely.

An archer we somehow missed in the chaos stands to try his luck as I step back from the leader's corpse. Two arrows and a fireball end his attempt before he's finished drawing back the bowstring.

"So much for that idea," I mutter with a laugh as I sheath my swords and bend to check what's left of the leader's body for anything of value. Nathaniel hears me and chuckles.

"I can't believe people would voluntarily attack you," Anders comments, stripping the daggers and a pouch of herbs and poultices off one of the other bandits.

I shrug. "Apparently my fame hasn't spread as far as _some people_ think it has. And you'll notice I didn't introduce myself to them as the Hero of Ferelden. Oh, by the way, ser mage, you owe me ten silver," I grin, hold out my hand and wiggle my fingers.

Anders makes a face and digs out the coins. "Serves me right, I guess."

"I told you I know what I'm doing. Maybe next time you'll believe me," I tease.

"I'll give it a try," he shoots back with a grin.

I wrinkle my nose at him before examining the dagger I found on the bandit leader. It's a good blade, strong metal with a golden tinge to it. It's not quite as good as the dagger Leliana gave me, so I don't really need it, but it's a shame to let such a good weapon go to waste. "Hey, Nathaniel, could you use this?" I turn it in my hand to offer him the hilt.

He takes it, runs a finger over the edge, an appreciation for its quality similar to mine showing in his eyes. "I could. You don't want to keep it?"

"Mine's better. If you can use this one, you're welcome to it." I give him a lopsided smile.

"Thank you." A small smile plays on his lips as he sheaths the dagger and tucks it in his belt before moving toward the dead archers, eyeing the nearly-full quivers of two of them.

I turn my attention to Eileen Bensley, who's still cowering near the wall. "You alright?"

She nods, straightening and brushing her hair out of her eyes with shaky hands. "Y-Yes, thank you. I thought I was going to die in there."

I feel sorry for her, this nobleman's daughter still wide-eyed and trembling with fear. "Did they hurt you?"

She shakes her head. "N-No. They w-weren't gentle, but they never hit me or...or anything else."

Relief loosens the knot in my chest at that. "Good. Where's your estate?"

She gives me an uncomprehending look. "Why...?"

"So we can take you home," I explain. "I wouldn't feel right just leaving you to make your way home by yourself."

"Oh. Our estate's about two miles outside Amaranthine."

"Oh, good. I was going to Amaranthine anyway. We'll get you home on our way there."

She nods, the fear finally leaving her eyes. "Thank you."

**oOo**

It takes two days to reach the Bensley estate. I learn two very important things during those two days: Anders may be the only person in Thedas who is even worse at cooking than I am. And Nathaniel is exactly the opposite: the first man I've ever met who's actually more than halfway decent at it.

"We are definitely keeping you around," I inform him, which earns me a guarded half smile. He knows neither Anders nor Oghren trusts him, so I can't blame him for assuming the same about me. Anders in particular gave me an earful about letting Nathaniel cook. I shut him up by pointing out that "even if he _did_ 'try something', it couldn't be any more hazardous to my health than letting you cook."

"My dear lady, you wound me." He gives me a look of mock hurt.

"Anders, you are a _terrible_ cook. That's just a fact. Nathaniel _isn't_. And I trust him."

"Mmm." He sighs and gives his ponytail a tug. "I still think you're crazy. But you're also the boss."

"Yes, I am." I grin at him. "Now, would you rather take first watch, or help clean up from dinner?"

"I'll take the watch, thanks."

**oOo**

The memory makes me smile as we wait for Lord Bensley to appear so we can return his daughter. He is effusive with his thanks when he sees Eileen, pressing a small pouch heavy with coin into my hand.

I'm impatient to get to Amaranthine, so I politely refuse his invitation to stay a while and head off for the city. I have far too much to do inside one day. I have to find Colbert, find this merchant whose caravans are being attacked-can't for the life of me remember his name-find Kristoff, and I know while I'm here I'll end up collecting a few more tasks to accomplish.

Anders pulls in a deep breath as we pass a pine tree outside the city gates. "Mmm...do you smell that?"

"What? Dogs and dust?" I tease.

"Well, yes. But it smells like freedom to me. Or that's in there, at least."

I laugh. "You really think being a Grey Warden is _freedom_?"

He shrugs, something darker than his usual humor flashing in his eyes. "Step up for me, even if I don't have a choice."

"Whaddya mean?" _Fighting darkspawn is a **step up**?_

"I escaped from the tower seven times. After the last time, they threw me in solitary confinement for a year," he explains. "They would probably have eventually branded me a maleficar, true or not, and executed me."

_Now Jowan I could understand them wanting to execute-even if it would only happen now over my dead body-but killing a mage who only wants to be free?_ "That seems a bit harsh."

He gives a half-laugh that sound unusually cynical for him. "The problem is that mages are tolerated, and barely at that. It's like we need permission to be alive."

_I feel ya on that. _"You're talking to an elf, Anders. I can sympathize. Sort of."

He smiles. "That's right, I guess you can. Why aren't you in charge of everything again?"

"Oh, Maker, please no," I groan, blanching in mock-horror. "Amaranthine is going to be enough trouble, thank you. Everything would be too much."

Anders laughs. "Alright, alright, _Commander_. All I really want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools."

I shoot him a teasing glare for using that damned title but can't help the laugh that follows. "I think you're aiming too low, my friend. Besides, you have to admit, the food last night was pretty good, and"-_I can hardly believe I'm saying this..._- "there's a pretty girl right here."

"Where?" He scans the area, his grin all the proof I need that he's teasing.

I sock him in the arm. "Right here, you feather-brained idiot."

"Ah-ha. I see. Well, two out of three... hmm, not bad." He smirks and I'm pretty sure I hear an exasperated sigh out of Nathaniel.

I restrict myself to a grin rather a laugh as I reply, "I promise, first fool we find, you can shoot lightning at 'em."

He grins back. "I'll hold you to that."

_A/N: Oh, Maker...Anders is so incredibly fun to write. Nathaniel also stayed cooperative this chapter, which made me happy. If he'll just stay that way for the rest of this story, I'll be a happy woman. :) And despite my usual aversion to straight quoting from the game(seems too much like cheating to me...at least if I do gobs of it), I __**had**__ to do that last convo. That's one of the __**best**__Anders moments in Awakening. No way I'm passing it up. =P I'm also going to try to 'involve' Oghren more, I don't want him to be silently tailing Rahna when we all know he'd never do that. Sometime conversations get away from me and I can't include everything I'd like(plus writing a three conversation is hard, and writing a four way one is ever harder). _


	15. Priorities

15. Priorities

I have to surpress a chuckle when the gate guard asks to search our bags. _I'm definitely not as well known as some people seem to think I am._ The laugh turns to a pitying grin when the man gets bawled out by his superior for even suggesting the Commander of the Grey might be smuggling. I wave off his apology and offer the constable my help with tracking down the smugglers that have them scrambling so desperately. He accepts gratefully, and I add one more thing to my mental list of things to do, right behind all the people I have to track down. "I wonder, Constable, if you could direct me to the merchant who's been having so much trouble with his caravans? I need to talk to him."

"Oh, you want Mervis. He's usually in the market." He gestures to his right. "Just down those stairs there."

"Thank you, ser. And the hunter Colbert? Where would I find him."

Disgust crinkles his face. "Like as not in the tavern, Commander."

I need to go there anyway to look for Kristoff anyway. Two for one is a good deal. "Thank you. Hopefully I'll be back shortly with some good news about those smuggers."

He nods. "Happy to be of service, Commander."

We head for the tavern first. Finding Kristoff and Colbert strikes me as more important, seeing as they both have some connection to darkspawn sightings. As a Warden, darkspawn get to take priority.

**oOo**

"So, you're a Howe."

Nathaniel responds to Anders' comment with a sigh. "Do you have a point, mage?" He sounds equal parts irritated and suspicious, which is to be expected, given Anders' attitude toward him.

"Hey, I'm fond of the Howes," Anders drawls. I can _hear _the smirk I'm sure he's wearing. "I'm also fond of the Whys, the Whos, and the Whats."

I bury my face in my hands as the silent laugh shakes my shoulders. Behind me, I hear Oghren snicker and Nathaniel sigh again, this time in exasperation. "How clever."

Anders apparently thinks it is, as I hear the laugh in his voice when he replies, "It's shameful how long it took me to come up with that."

"No, Anders, what's shameful is that you came up with it at all," I chip in with a giggle, walking backwards to smirk at him. "I'd have figured you could do better than _that_."

"Indeed." The faintest hint of a smile tugs at Nathaniel's mouth. "Commander."

At his warning I spin around, just in time to avoid walking into a support post for a vendor's awning. "Whoa." I carefully step around it. "Thanks, Nathaniel."

My smile finally earns me a matching one from the archer as Anders grumbles that it would have been far more entertaining to let me walk into the pole. "She can hear you, you know, Anders."

I chuckle as Anders mutters something under his breath. "What was that?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing, Commander. Where's this tavern we're looking for?"

"Just ahead." I nod in the direction of the building to the left at the top of the stairs. "Looks respectable enough, far as taverns go."

"It's better than most I've seen," Nathaniel comments in agreement. "Granted, it's been a while since I last visited it, but I doubt it's changed that much."

"I hope you're right," I mutter as I reach for the door handle.

**oOo**

A brief inquiry with the innkeeper-who is slightly suspicious until I inform him I'm the Commander of the Grey-yields both the key to Kristoff's room and a disgruntled thumb jerked towards a drunken man in the corner when I ask him to point out Colbert.

"Charming fellow," Anders comments, once we've stepped far enough away the man can't hear us.

I just shake my head. "Oh, hush." I hand him the key. "You and Oghren go check out Kristoff's room, see if you can find out what he was working on, if he found out anything, that sort of thing. Nathaniel and I'll talk to Colbert."

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"Anders, first of all, Colbert looks too sodding drunk to _do_ anything. In fact, I'm just hoping he's sober enough to answer my questions. Second, I have Nathaniel _and_ Fade with me, so even if the improbable does happen, I'm sure I'll be fine."

He sighs. "That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant. If you're going to say you trust me, I need you to show you _trust_ me. And him." I give the mage a knowing look. "Got it?"

He nods. "I'll try."

"That's all I want. Now go check Kristoff's room."

"C'mon, Sparkle-fingers," Oghren calls from the steps. "Sometime today would be nice."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He heads off to join the dwarf, the two of them bickering lightheartedly about _something _before they're even halfway up the stairs.

I turn to Nathaniel. "Come on. Let's see if we can get that information out of Colbert before those two get us thrown out."

"Right behind you, Commander," he murmurs, a chuckle edging the words.

**oOo**

"You the hunter who saw darkspawn?" I ask without preamble when we reach the table.

The hunter looks up from his mug, his eyes looking more than a little glazed over. "I am," he slurs.

"Good." I nod as I lean on the table's edge. "I need to talk to you."

"'M always up for riveting conversations with beautiful women, m'lady," he grins, gaze clearing slightly. Fade growls at him and I fight down the desire to do the same.

"I'll rivet you to this table if you keep _that_ up, we clear?" I let my fingers play with the handle of my dagger and make sure he sees it.

The knowledge I have a weapon I'm not afraid to use seems to sober him up a good deal. "Wh-What did you need to know?"

"Where's this entrace to the Deep Roads where you supposedly saw darkspawn?"

"We _did_ see darkspawn!" he protests. "Swear it on my mother's grave!"

"We?" Nathaniel beats me to asking.

"Me an' Micah." Colbert motions drunkenly toward the blond elf arguing with the bartender. "We was trackin' a buck, big fella too, been on 'is tail a solid week if it was a day-"

"And this chasm?" I interrupt, trying to keep him focused. _I hate dealing with drunks..._

"Don't bother yore pretty head none, I'm gettin' to it." My hand inches towards my dagger, only stopping when Nathaniel gives me a slight nudge. I curl my hand into a fist as Colbert continues, "We-we came over a rise and there it was. Looked like the Maker 'imself had cracked the ground open like...like an egg. Some old buildings, looked abandoned, no one 'ere in town knew about it, but an-anyway, we went to inves-investigate and Micah tumbles in with a shriek like you or nobody would believe. While he's layin' there yellin', that's when we saw 'em."

"How many?" I'm getting tired of this conversation, wondering what Anders and Oghren are up to, and starting to feel queasy just off the smell of ale.

He gives a careless shrug. "More than a few an' less than a horde."

"And where was this?" I pull out a map and slap it down on the table.

"Right..." he stares at the map for a second, shakes his head vigorously, then taps a spot out in the Knotwood Hills. "Right here. I paid special mind so's we could avoid it, but if you wanna go traipsing off t' get yerself killed that's yore business. Now am I gettin' anything for m' trouble? If not, I"ll thank ya t' leave me be."

I sigh in disgust, but know I probably should give him something. "Here." I slap some silvers down on the table. "Try not to spend all of it here."

"As y' like, milady." He gives a sloppy, drunken salute and stuffs the coins in his pocket.

"Maker preserve me," I mutter under my breath. My stomach lurches at the ever-increasing smell of ale. "I think I'd rather wait outside, Nathaniel."

He shrugs. "Whatever you say, Commander." It's not until we're outside that he notices the interesting shade of green my face has gone. "You alright?"

I nod, praying desperately that that remains true. "I'm fine. Alcohol and I...well, we don't mix well. Even the smell can be too much if it's _that_ strong." A smile pulls at my lips. "And if you ever tell Anders, I swear I will make you very, very sorry."

He chuckles. "No fear of that."

"I'm sorry he's so suspicious," I comment, leaning against the wall of the inn and watching Fade chase some poor bird across the street.

"Considering that I originally intended to kill you, I'm more surprised that you aren't equally suspicious. Do you make a habit out of trusting people who want to kill you?"

"It's been known to happen," I laugh. _Oh, Zev would have a comment or two if he were here..._

"Still, given what...the general opinion regarding my father seems to be, why did you decide to trust_ me_?"

"Couple reasons. First, my dog trusts you. Since I've never met a better judge of character than a mabari, that says volumes. And the last time I trusted someone who tried to kill me-and he did actually _try_-it turned out alright."

"Oh?" Nathaniel raises an eyebrow.

"Former Antivan Crow who is now one of my best friends."

Anders and Oghren appear before Nathaniel has a chance to reply. "There you are," the mage mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "Was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

"Find out anything?" I ask, turning to whistle for Fade.

"Kristoff's gone off to the Blackmarsh. He saw some darkspawn who headed that way and followed them."

"Right..." Now I just have to figure out where to go first. And of course, we still have to find and talk to Mervis. _Well, if Kristoff headed to the Blackmarsh, there's already a Warden on that group of darkspawn. Besides that farmer, Turnoble, her farm's on the way to Knotwood Hills. _

"So, where to, Commander?" Oghren asks.

"Knotwood Hills, I guess. After we talk to Mervis."

**oOo**

Talking to Mervis doesn't take long. He seems nervous, relieved I finally showed up to talk to him, and altogether a wreck over these attacks on his shipments. Not that I can really blame him. If these caravans are his entire livelihood, and they aren't getting through, he has every right to be upset. I promise him to look into the attacks. Mentally, I assign it priority behind Knotwood Hills and above Blackmarsh, but that might change. Darkspawn with no previous Warden notice has to take priority, just due to the havoc they can wreak if I don't do things this way.

As I turn away from Mervis, a rather shady looking character in leather armor catches my eye. He notices me looking at him and breaks into an ingratiating smile. "Good day, m'lady, can I interest you in..." the beginning of his attempt to sell trails off and his eyes narrow. "Wait, my lads said they saw you talkin' to the guards." He glares at me. "I'll teach you to stick your nose where it don't belong!" He motions to a group of men lounging in a nearby alley before taking off in the direction of the tavern.

_Oh, sod it __**all**__!_ I groan as the men move toward us.

"'Ello there, lovely," one of them taunts, eyeing me in a way that reminds me entirely too much of Vaughan.

"Sorry, you're not my type. So if you want to keep thise eyes, I suggest you point them elsewhere." I cross my arms as Fade growls, crouching low near my feet and serving as an excellent underscoring to my statement.

"Rahna..." Anders is already reaching for his staff when I glance over my shoulder.

The thug laughs. "Ooh, you're a fiesty one, ain't ya, knife ear?"

"Is that honestly the best you can do? Why is 'knife ear' the only insult I ever hear?" I sigh, working my foot back for a better stance as I talk. "You'd think someone would pick something other than my ears to focus on somewhere along the line."

"Commander." Nathaniel moves for his bow just as the sizzle of a lightning spell fills my ears and flies past my head.

_Andraste's ass, they have a mage?_ I dodge sideways instinctively. Fade leaps toward the nearest thug, the rest of us not far behind him.

Apparently the Maker had other ideas for my priority list.

_A/N:Argh, trying to involve everyone in conversations/battles etc is hard with four people and a dog. *tears at hair* A note about the banter: I think I'm going to try to work in a few of my favorite ones, but I'll try not to use too many. Considering who the team will probably end up being usually(*lips are sealed*), that'll be hard. I shall do my best, however!_


	16. Making Progress

16. Making Progress

The first group of thugs is relatively easy to deal with, especially when Anders uses some spell I've never seen before that kills the mage leader instantly. I blink at the corpse for a second before returning my attention to the fight. _I'll have to find out what exactly __**that**__ was, but later._ The four of us-well, five, counting Fade-work well together, and the other groups of thugs we encounter in pursuit of the shady character who sicced the intial set on us don't offer much challenge. I do spare a second to wonder exactly how lucrative this particular smuggler's ring is, considering the number of mages in their employ. The man we're chasing eventually dashes inside a hut just outside the city walls and has disappeared by the time we finish off his goons.

"Ah...sod it," I mutter. "Well, I can at least tell Constable Aidan that we've made some progress."

"That's something," Nathaniel points out as he refills his quiver.

I shrug. "I'd rather be able to tell him they're all taken care and no threat any longer."

"Baby steps, Rahna," Ander teases, which earns him a withering look from me and a snigger from Oghren. "Not everything is accomplished in one fell swoop."

"I know that," I shoot back. _Because swooping is bad._ I suppose it's also progress-of a different sort-that remembering this time brings me closer to laughter than tears. "I just...prefer it when it _is_." I sigh. "Anyway, let's go talk to Aidan."

**oOo**

"Any luck with the smugglers, Commander?" the constable asks when he sees me approaching. I fill him in, and he seems encouraged by the progress we've made. "To think, all the years that place has been abandoned...probably why they decided to use it," he muses. "More than likely, there'll be a guard, which means a key."

_I hadn't thought about that..._ "I'll check it out," I promise.

"Good. If you find a way in, they don't stand a chance."

I smile at him. "I'll get right on that, then."

Sure enough, when we poke around near the "abandoned" house, there's a sentry; a man who's trying to look like he's simply lazing around in the doorway. I guess he can tell I'm not buying the "loafer" act, because he gives a sharp whistle, which brings a group of toughs running. After we cut through them, I root through the sentry's pockets until I find the key. "There you are." I check the bodies for anything valuable, don't find much, and then enter the abandoned house. The trapdoor isn't hidden at all; apparently the smugglers put a huge amount of faith in the rundown look this place has. I unlock it, Nathaniel and Anders swing it open, and I let Fade lead the way down the tunnel.

**oOo**

Lady Luck finally decides to work in my favor, and the leader of the smuggling ring is among the men occupying the cavern. He is _not _happy to see us. This fight, at least, is a bit more of a challenge, rather than merely an annoyance. After we win, I set Anders and Oghren to looting the bodies and checking through crates while Nathaniel and I pick the locks on the chests. I'm not picky; any and everything that seems even slightly valuable or useful comes with us. I'll sort through all of it later. Right now, I just want to tell Aidan that the smugglers are gone and get on the way to the Knotwood Hills.

**oOo**

After reporting the end of the smuggling problem to Aidan-and tucking the gold he gives me in my money pouch-we set off for the Knotwood Hills. It's quite a walk; just shy of a week, and if you toss in stopping by the Turnoble farmhold, it probably will take a week to get there. The thought makes me rather unhappy, but there's no way to get there faster without ignoring the Turnobles, which I refuse to do. The occasional visit from a templar won't mean much of anything to the darkspawn.

"So how much did she tell you in her letter?"

"Hm?" My head snaps up at Anders' question.

"You said we were stopping by the Turnoble farmstead because you'd gotten a letter requesting aid. How much detail did the goodwife give you?"

I shrug, kicking at a pebble as we walk. "Not too much, honestly. She said they'd been plagued by darkspawn attacks, there was a templar who checks on them from time to time, but she was worried that that wouldn't be enough. She said she'd put in a good word with Bann Eddelbreck if we helped her, and, frankly, as an elf, I can use all the support I can get."

"Strictly mercenary reasons, then?" He raises an eyebrow at me.

"Maker, no! I'd help even if there was nothing in it for me. That's just...a nice bonus, that's all."

"I see." He smiles. "Enjoying the politics of your position, huh?"

"Oh, yes, they're an absolute_ joy_," I deadpan, which earns me a laugh from Anders and-if I'm not mistaken-a quiet chuckle from Nathaniel. Oghren's too busy trying to "rescue" his flask from Fade, but I'm sure he would have had a comment were he paying attention.

"Sodding dog!" he bellows, causing Fade to bark happily, wriggle his back end, and prance just out of the cursing dwarf's reach. "You flea bitten, nug humping mongrel! Find yer own!"

I watch for a few minutes, shaking with silent laughter, before taking pity on Oghren. "Fade, c'mere, boy!" He trots over, panting and-I swear-grinning. "Give it here." He makes a whining noise but obeys, depositing the now-sodden leather flask at my feet. "Good boy! Here, Oghren." I hand it back to him.

He grumbles a bit more about my thieving mutt as he tugs out the stopper and takes a swig, eyeing Fade warily. "This is mine, you hear me? The next time I won't go so easy on you, you thrice-cursed, flea-ridden mongrel!"

Fade barks joyously before trotting off to chase a rabbit.

"See if you can catch one for supper," I mumble, one eye on the dog and the other on the sky. "We should probably stop for the night soon."

"There's a better spot a bit farther along the road," Nathaniel comments.

"Better how?" I shift my pack to ride higher on my shoulders.

"It's past the hills, so the ground is more level, and less rocky."

"Mm, well, less rocky is good." I bite my lip. "How much farther along are we talking?"

"Twenty minutes, roughly."

"Alright, sounds good." There would still be enough light left to set up camp, and I've had my fill of sleeping on rocks, thank you very much.

**oOo**

By the time we reach the Turnoble estate, I'm very sincerely thanking the Maker for Nathaniel. Having someone along who knows the arling forward, backward, and blindfolded(alright, so that part's just a guess) is very handy. Even if he's been gone for eight years, the man still knows this place better than I could ever hope to.

And the back way he knows to the Turnoble estate proves to be a very good thing, considering that when we arrive the place is overrun with darkspawn. Had we come by the main road, we would have all but walked into the ogre standing near the farmhouse. As it is, we still startle a small group of hurlocks, including an alpha. Oghren and I have our weapons out and buried in the chests of two of the archers before they can react, Fade dodging between my legs to take out a third as it draws its sword. The alpha starts toward me, but jerks to a halt, writhing in the grip of the crushing prison spell Anders summons. Nathaniel finishes it off with an arrow through the head, nocking another arrow faster than I would think humanly possible to take out the genlock trying to sneak up behind Anders.

A line of genlock archers standing on the hill not far off notice us, and I manage to dodge the first shot-barely-but not the second. Far as I can tell, the shaft now protruding from my arm didn't do any more than superficial damage; it pierced the fleshy part right above my arm guard but below my elbow. Right now, it just feels like a really tight pinch, which is serving to piss me off faster, therefore almost working more in _my_ favor than that of the creature that fired it. Blood trickles down over the leather as I get close enough to slice open the genlock's throat, spinning before the first one hits the ground to block an attack from the second one. I hold it off long enough for Oghren to first sweep its legs from under it and then plant his axe in its chest. The third and fourth of the archers fall to a lightning spell and a flame-tipped arrow-_Almost forgot Nathaniel had those_-respectively.

I take a moment to catch my breath before turning my attention to the arrow jutting from my arm. "Sweet Andraste..." _**Now**__ it hurts..._ I wince and yank my hand back when I touch the shaft.

"Let me see." Anders reaches for my arm.

"I can handle it, Anders. I'll be fine." My tone is snippy, which wasn't intended.

"Rahna. There may have been poison on there." The mage gives me a Look. "Let. Me. _**See**_."

"Oh, fine," I sigh in surrender, twisting my arm so he can get a better look. I flinch and squelch a whimper when he snaps off the arrowhead to pull out the shaft. My grimace fades at the soothing touch of the healing spell he summons, and soon there's not so much as a scar. "Thanks. That healed up better than my hand did."

"That was different. There were broken bones, it had gone without healing for quite a while when I finally looked at it-" he shrugs "-but this was relatively simple, especially compared to that." He tugs on one of my pigtails with a grin.

Fade lets out a growl, forestalling my intended protest and reminding me that there's still more darkspawn. Upon seeing the size of the group, I hold up one hand, motioning for the others to wait a second. I let my eyes slide closed, whispered syllables spilling from my lips with far less urgency than last time.

When the wolf trots up, he and Fade eye each other suspiciously for a minute, low growls vibrating in both throats.

"You two are on the same side," I murmur, resting a calming hand on Fade's head. The two animals finally stop glaring at each other and we charge the darkspawn.

Anders curses under his breath when he catches sight of the emissary standing near the farmhouse. As Fade, Nathaniel, and Oghren focus on the ogre barrelling towards us, he uses the same spell he used against the smuggler mage to kill the emissary inside the space of a breath.

_I really need to remember to ask him what that is..._ I remind myself as he starts dealing with the genlocks and I wheel to face the alpha, ducking low to avoid the swing of the axe he carries. The blade grazes Oghren's shoulder, eliciting a string of curses from the dwarf and distracting him from the ogre, just as it swipes at Nathaniel and Fade. Nathaniel manages to move out of the way-mostly-in time, only catching a glancing blow from the huge fist that makes him stumble but nothing more. Fade, however, yelps as the beast's hand slams him into the fence.

"Oghren, pick a target and sodding _stay with it_!" I holler, ducking the backswing of the ogre's fist. _If you get my dog killed, I will never forgive you._

He responds with a grunt as he rams his good shoulder into the alpha's chest, stunning it long enough for him to get his axe up.

Alright, then, if he's taking the alpha, I'll help with the ogre. Fade and the wolf I summoned are nipping at its feet-and hands, when they get close enough-and distracting it while Nathaniel and now Anders attack from a relatively safe distance. I give my swords a twirl as I sneak up behind it and slash the back of its knees. The ogre roars and instinctively kicks back, hitting me full in the chest just as I notice that Fade is faltering. _Oh, sweet Maker, no, no, no!_ "Anders!" I wince as the deep breath makes freshly cracked ribs ache. "Heal...Fade!" He gives me a dubious look, obviously thinking I need it more. "Now, dammit!" I dart under the ogre's arm as it swings at me again, bellowing in pain as Nathaniel somehow manages to shoot it in the eye.

_Sod, I'm impressed..._ That was _not_ an easy shot to make. I take advantage of the way the ogre stoops slightly, climbing up on top of its bent leg and ramming both swords into its chest. It roars again, jerking backward and nearly throwing me off. I tighten my grip on the sword hilts, twisting the blades and shoving them deeper. The ogre convulses as Anders hits it with a lightning spell, and finally tumbles to the ground. I yank my swords out of its chest and plant them in its head. It gives one last shuddering jerk before going limp.

"Oh...thank the Maker," I pant as I climb down, nearly falling when my shaky legs momentarily refuse to support my weight. Nathaniel grabs my arm to steady me and I offer him a grateful smile before turning to Anders. "I think...just about everyone needs healing...except you." I nod toward the wolf. "Him first, so I can let him go."

"I am rather curious about how you did that, Commander," Nathaniel comments as Anders heals the wolf's minor injuries.

"What, summoning the wolf? Something...I learned from the Dalish. Want me to teach you the...pitifully little bit I know?" I offer around another wince.

He nods. "If you would."

After the wolf is healed and darts off, I stubbornly insist Oghren goes next, even though breathing hurts, and the gash on his arm is rather shallow.

"Rahna, I have never met anyone more bull-headed than you," Anders comments when he finally gets around to healing my ribs. "You're going to kill yourself one day, you know that, right?"

"Probably." I shrug. "Maybe I don't really care."

"You should," he mutters.

"So, what was that thing you did to the emissary?" I ask to change the subject, absently watching Nathaniel and Oghren loot the corpses and check for survivors, either darkspawn or human.

"What thing?" He finishes healing and shoulders his staff.

"That...that thing with the bluish light that killed it in one go."

"Oh, that. Mana clash. Only works on magic users," he explains. "Basically, it takes all the target's remaining mana and uses it to cause spirit damage. The more mana they have left, the more damage I can do. If I catch them before they cast many spells, I can kill them in one shot, like you saw."

"Very handy," I grin. "I think I'll keep you around for sure."

He grins back. "Good to know."

Further conversation is forestalled when we hear both Oghren and Nathaniel holler from the far edge of the Turnoble property. Apparently there are a few darkspawn left.

"Duty calls," Anders groans, reaching for his staff.

"Awful inconsiderate of it. I was I still catching my breath," I shoot back, drawing my swords as we pass the torn and bloody body of a templar on our way to help the others.

_A/N: Whoo, that was a fun chapter to write. I don't even care that they didn't make it to the Knotwood Hills like I wanted; writing that fight was so worth it. And I think I remembered to include everyone this time. xD Poor Fade is so easy to forget in a fight. Oh, and about the party banters, if there are any you'd like me to try and include, just let me know and I'll do my best. I've already had one mentioned that I'm definitely going to include, once a certain someone has been recruited. =P_


	17. Conflict

17. Conflict

...

_Do I expect to change, the past I hold inside,_

_with all the words I say, repeating over in my mind,_

_some things you can't erase, no matter how hard you try_

...

_"Been awhile, hasn't it?" Alistair's grin when I find myself at the campsite-well, the Fade facsimile of our campsite-warms me clear down to my toes. I haven't had a dream about him in...weeks._

_"It has indeed." I bury myself inside the hug he offers. "Maker, I've missed you."_

_"Get used to it, love," he cautions, even as he holds me close. "You can't dream about me forever."_

_"I'll take what I can get," I murmur, curling my fingers in the fabric of his shirt._

_He chuckles softly. "You do that." His hand slides under my chin and tips it up so he can kiss me. My hands snake up and tangle in his hair as I rise to the challenge in returning the kiss. "Rahna..."_

_"Shhh." I nibble at his lip before kissing him again. "Let me have my dreams. That's all I want."_

_"Do you like him?"_

_"Who?" I pull back to meet his eyes, surprised to only find curiosity. No hurt. No anger. Just plain, old fashioned curiosity, which surprises me, if I'm honest._

_"You know who. Mage, blond, gets all protective around you and likes to throw lightning bolts?" Alistair raises an eyebrow at me. "Sound familiar?"_

_"Oh, Anders?" I give it a moment's thought and then shrug. "I...Maker, Alistair, I don't know." That actually scares me; that I might possibly like someone who isn't Alistair. I look up at him, my trepidation showing, I'm sure._

_"Relax, love, I'm not angry," he reassures me, tracing one finger lightly along the edge of my jaw. "You'll have to move on sooner or later. Just..." he hesitates. "Just make sure it's the right person for the right reasons." His hand rises so he can trace my scar, the touch whisper-soft and gentle. "You've been hurt enough for one lifetime. I...I don't want you to go through any more if you don't have to." He bends close to whisper, and if I try hard enough, I can imagine warm breath against my cheek. _

_"I will, I promise." I close my eyes, all my focus on remembering __**him**__. _

_When I open them, I'm alone. He's gone, vanished more abruptly than ever before._

**oOo**

I manage to stifle a gasp as my eyes snap open. I roll over, pushing against my pillow to sit up as I try to figure out what just happened. _That was an entirely new experience..._ I pull up my knees, bracing my elbows against them as I hold my head in my hands. To have him...vanish so abruptly like that felt like having him torn away from me all over again. A tear fights its way free and runs down my cheek, following the track carved by my scar. I ignore it, digging my fingers into my hair as if the physical pain of tugging will blot out the white-hot ache pulsing in my heart.

_I can't do this...not again. I'm done with this ache, done with the pain, done with crying_-an ill-timed sniffle contradicts me on that one-_just __**done**__ with all of this mess. I loved Alistair. But he's dead, and I can't change that, no matter how much I cry. I still miss him, probably always will, but I'm done with this._

Conflicting emotions about that decision clash inside me, that part that wants to hold the hurt close and use it as a reason to never move on warring with the small bit that's ready to heal. Their battle makes falling back asleep impossible, despite trying for almost half an hour. I sigh in exasperation, rake my hair out of my face, and crawl out of my tent.

We made about another half day of progress past the Turnoble estate before setting up camp, and all signs of that place have faded from view behind us. It was hard to leave, especially with the knowledge I was too slow-again-mocking me from a back corner of my brain. Nathaniel and Anders both pointed out that the family had died days before we arrived, that even if we'd headed straight for the farm upon my receiving that letter, we would have been too late. That's a cold comfort; knowing I was doomed from the start. I'm glad the small clearing where we're camped is too far away to see the farmhold.

A rush of wind sweeps past as I stand, tossing my hair and making an even wilder mess of it. I probably should have tied it back; Nathaniel warned me how windy it can get. _Ah, well...no need to look put-together at this hour anyway_, I muse as I wander over toward where the archer sits. _I doubt Nathaniel will care._ He hears me coming, and I see his shoulders tense ever so slightly before he turns.

"What are you doing up, Commander?" he asks, relaxing and returning his gaze to the surroundings when he sees it's just me. "Your watch isn't for quite a while yet."

"Couldn't sleep," I admit, gathering my hair in one hand to get it out of my face. "Care for some company?"

He shrugs, but moves to the side enough that I can sit next to him. "If you wish."

I perch on the rock, leaning forward to brace my arms against my knees. "Why wouldn't I?" My hair swings forward and I bite back a sigh of exasperation as I tuck it back behind my ear.

"Aside from the fact I'm not much for conversation?" he asks with a wry smile. "Most people wouldn't have anything to do with a Howe these days."

"I'm not most people," I remind him, something inside me twisting at the weary bitterness that edges his voice.

"I've noticed. I'm certain with most people, I would be dead by now."

"I'd have to agree with you on that. 'Specially considerin' your attitude the first time we met." I try to keep my tone light, despite the fact I'm serious.

"Three days in a cell does little to improve already...uncharitable feelings," he points out.

"Why do I have a feeling 'uncharitable' is putting it lightly?" I let out a short laugh. "At least you didn't _actually_ try to kill me. I suppose I should be grateful for that. But I don't think the three days in a cell were the reason you sounded angry enough to rip my head off, given the chance." _Maker, am I really up to having __**this**__ conversation __**now**__? _It is one we need to have, but I'm short on sleep, already mentally wrestling with something else, and not entirely sure I'm up to the challenge.

"They weren't. Not entirely." He sighs, gaze still on the surroundings. "I returned from the Free Marches to find my family dead, our lands taken, and all manner of... unpleasant things being said about my father. The Grey Wardens were largely responsible, and yet you were rewarded for killing my father. That just struck me as being..._wrong_. I wanted you dead." He shakes his head. "I still don't know what made me change my mind."

I choose my words with care. "Maybe part of you knew it would be a mistake."

"Perhaps. But whatever people say he did, he was still _my father._"

"Nathaniel, I'm going to be completely honest with you; he deserved it." The wind tosses my hair back in my face, and I shove it out of the way impatiently. "I understand family loyalty, and I won't hold _you_ responsible for _his_ crimes. I also can't make you believe me when I say he was a monster-and that is the kindest term that comes to mind-but he deserves no less."

"He was a hero in the war against the Orlesians."

"The key word in that sentence is _was_, Nathaniel." I yawn so wide I hear my jaw pop. "He _was_ your father, he _was_ a hero, but some of the things he did in Denerim, that I saw in those dungeons..." I let the sentence trail off, a shudder running through me at the memory. It was those sights and not the darkspawn that haunted my dreams for days afterwards. "They were absolutely and totally unforgivable. He deserved exactly what he got. I'm not the one who pulled your whole family down; he was. If you want to kill me-or try to- for killing him, fine. Just tell me something: if you were so angry at the Wardens, and me in particular, why in Andraste's name did you come back and ask to join the order?"

"What else was there for me to do? I have nowhere else to go." There's an undertone of venom to his words, but it's gone a moment later. "And you...caught me off-guard," he admits slowly. "Showed mercy I didn't deserve and would not have gotten from anyone else. It seemed like the right thing to do."

"I see." A long moment of silence stretches between us following my quiet aknowledgement.

"And...part of me can't help but wonder if you're right. About my father." This admission is by far the more grudging, and I can still hear anger and disbelief under the words.

"Nathaniel, it's your choice whether or not you believe me. I can't make up your mind for you, and I wouldn't dare try." Still too bothered by my own internal battle to go back to bed, I stay perched on the rock next to him, even as the silence grows again, far more tense this time, and a cold rush of wind gusts through the worn, too-large shirt I'm wearing. I shiver and instinctively scoot closer to Nathaniel, who-surprisingly enough-lets me. _Maker,_ _Alistair, what I supposed to do about all of this?_

_You're on your own for that one, love._ The laugh-tinged response is unexpected enough I almost fall off the rock.

_What...? Well, I don't really want to leave things like this. _I very deliberately tug a lock of my hair before breaking the silence. "So, um, you still interested in learnin' how to summon a wolf?"

Nathaniel accepts the offered olive branch with a quiet chuckle. "Now?"

I shrug. "I can't sleep, and wolves are out at night."

"True, and yes, I am."

**oOo**

I have to admit to a small amount of jealousy concerning how bloody _fast_ Nathaniel gets the hang of the ranger abilities I learned from the Dalish. What I struggle to pull off, he can manage easy as breathing. As long as it serves as the olive branch I intended it to be, however, I can live with being a mite jealous.

Especially when it comes in handy like it does shortly after we reach the Knotwood Hills.

Due to a playful argument with Anders over my lack of skill with maps, my eyes are on him and not my feet. What might be mildly unwise in most circumstances proves to be nearly catastrophic when I trip, stumble, and land right in front of the _very angry_ bereskarn crouching just off the path.

Oghren barrels past me with a yell, successfully drawing the animal's ire. Which is a very good thing, considering that my tumble resulted in me banging my head and I wouldn't have reacted in time to avoid being-quite literally-dead meat. I scramble to my feet, ears still ringing as my hands close around the hilts of my swords. I nearly trip over Fade as he bolts past me to latch onto one of the bereskarn's hind legs. He yelps as it roars and kicks him off. The deep scratches across his chest make me wince, but my attention is dragged elsewhere when the bereskarn knocks Oghren off his feet and rakes its claws across his armor, shaking off the ice spell Anders casts as if it's merely an annoyance.

Despite my best efforts, I don't seem to be hurting it much, or even distracting it from Oghren. Anders curses as another spell gets shaken off like water. "I'm running out of tricks here, Rahna!"

"Nathaniel!" The thing is already starting to resemble a pincushion-moreso than it did to start-but the rest of us are coming up a bit short. I'm getting desperate; I don't want to lose Oghren, and Anders can only cast so many healing spells before he runs out of mana.

Nathaniel's reply is lost under another roar from the raging bear, but the arrow that whistles past my head turns out to actually be _two_ arrows, both of which bury themselves so deep in the bereskarn's neck it finally falters and takes its attention of Oghren.

_It's about sodding time!_ My relief dies when the wounded and very, very angry animal turns said attention toward Nathaniel. _Maker, __**not good**__!_ Fade whimpers as the bereskarn knocks him aside again in the process of turning toward the archer. _Nononono!_ I try to call a wolf-we could really use the help-but I don't feel the minute shift that usually indicates success, even though I know there are wolves around here. I'm too distracted, concentrating too much on the bereskarn. It needs to die before its lumbering strides bring it within reach of Nathaniel.

"Rahna!" Anders hollers, looking at something over my shoulder.

"What?"

"_**Move**_!"

I dodge to the side as a huge, snarling wolf flies out of the underbrush and makes straight for the bereskarn's throat. The bear roars-or tries to-but it doesn't sound as threatening now.

"Let's dance!" Oghren grunts as he regains his feet, hefting his axe until he has a good grip before letting the sodding thing have it.

It doesn't take much longer to finish off the bereskarn, thanks to the wolf, which runs off as soon as we've turned the tainted bear into a corpse.

"That was a rather timely arrival," Anders mutters as he watches it leave, summoning a healing spell for Oghren. "We could've used it a bit earlier, Commander."

"Wasn't me," I correct him with a wry smile as I catch my breath. "Couldn't concentrate."

"Then where'd it come from?" he demands, pulling out a lyrium potion.

I shoot Nathaniel a knowing look. "Maybe we're just lucky."

Anders scoffs. "I seriously doubt we're _that_ lucky."

As we head toward the visible and gaping chasm Colbert mentioned, I catch Nathaniel's eye, smile, and mouth _Thank you_. He smiles back.

_There may be hope yet._

_A/N: Oh, Maker... This chapter fought me every step of the way, I swear... I have never had so much trouble writing in my life. I think I rewrote Rahna and Nathaniel's conversation about six or seven times(and I'm STILL not completely happy with it-Nathaniel seems a bit OOC at a couple points-but I have no idea how to fix it, so I give up), and the bereskarn fight twice. *is ded* And the thought Rahna and Nate have at least one more talk like that coming at some point is NOT a pleasant one. *cringes* I'm not good at conflict... At least they made it to Knotwood Hills. Finally._

_And as far as Nathaniel saying his family is dead, remember they haven't been back to the Vigil yet, so he doesn't know about Delilah. Yet._

_Lyrics at the start are "Echo" by Trapt. Thought they fit this chapter rather well, both for Rahna and Nathaniel. =)_


	18. New Arrivals

18. New Arrivals

The fortress was huge. That was really the only thing worth commenting on; it was a functioning outpost for the Grey Wardens and therefore more than a little...lacking in anything not absolutely necessary. That was only made more obvious by the buildings that filled that not-too-distant city, all constructed to be as grand as their owners could afford to make them, as if Kaiten was the result of nobles completing to show off their wealth.

It probably was, Jowan decided as the newly-arrived Wardens walked through the city's crowded streets towards the fortress that was visible even from the gates. Miri and Ashe both slowed more than once to gape at some of the architecture on display. Jowan and Vincent shot each other a look.

"Miri, c'mon." Jowan grabbed her arm and tugged her along as she slowed to a near-halt in the shadow of a particularly grand mansion.

"Jowan, _look_," she protested, her eyes wide as she drank in the sight of all the magnificent buildings around them. "Have you ever seen anything like them? Can't I just look for a few minutes?"

He smiled at the pleading note in her voice, noting a similar awe-struck longing in Ashe's eyes, but Vincent shook his head. "We have to report to the Wardens. There may be time for sight-seeing later, but not now."

"Aww, Vince, c'mon," Ashe begged. "Can't Miri and I just look around while you two go assure whoever's in charge that we made it unscathed?"

"Later, Ashe," her brother repeated, resulting in a most un-warriorlike pout plastering itself across Ashe's face as she huffed a loose curl of hair back toward her braided bun. "Come on, the faster we make it to the fortress, the sooner you two will be free to wander."

Both mage and warrior perked up at that, and Miri linked her arm through Jowan's as they resumed walking. "Keep me moving if I slow down again," she laughed when he shot her a curious look. "You know me."

"That I do," he chuckled, increasing his pace to keep up with Vincent.

**oOo**

The guards at the gate seemed pleased enough with their arrival; The greeting one offered was worlds different than the one Jowan and Rahna had received at Weisshaupt. Jowan had to admit to a small rush of relief that all Wardens didn't act like that.

"Commander's office is down the 'all, third door on the left," the guard informed them, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. He glanced at Vincent and Ashe's armor. "You Fereldan?"

Vincent shook his head. "Nevarran. Those two are Fereldan, though." He nodded at Miri and Jowan.

"Huh, really?" The man shot the mages a dubious look. "She looks more Rivaini."

Miri chuckled. "I promise you, ser, I _am_ from Ferelden. Spent my entire life before my recruitment in the Circle."

The guard's eyes lit with curiosity. "If you're Fereldan, did you, b'chance, know the 'ero?"

"Who? Tabris?" Jowan didn't like the look in Miri's eyes as she shrugged. "Met her is all. He's practically her best friend, though." She motioned at the other mage.

"_Miri_!" He shot her a dirty look and got a devious grin in return. "That's not-" He sighed and yanked-hard-on his ponytail, trying to tamp down the desire to strangle his best friend.

The other guards had become very interested as soon as the Hero of Ferelden was mentioned, and one finally spoke up. "It's not what? Did you know her or not?"

_Miri, I'm going to __**kill**__ you._ "I did." He had to surpress a laugh at the look the two soldiers exchanged. Their eyes were practically bugging out of their heads. "And while I think she'd still consider Zevran her _best_ friend, _**Miri**_-" he shot the elf a pointed look, which she met with a failed attempt to look innocent "-we _were_ pretty good friends."

The soldiers looked even more impressed. "Can you tell us about her?"

Jowan hesitated, knowing Rahna would hate it if he talked about her too much.

But then again, what were friends for, if not to occassionally drive you crazy? He grinned. "Maybe later." _She might kill me, but it'll be worth it._

**oOo**

After they had gotten settled in, Ashe and Miri nagged Vincent until he let them go back to the city to just look around.

"You should come with us," Miri commented, perching on the trunk that sat at the foot of the bed in Jowan's room.

"Aren't you tired of walking? It's all we've done for the past month, Mir. I just want to rest." Jowan sighed and ran his finger through his hair. "And hide from the small army that wants to hear about Rahna. Thanks for that."

"Sorry," Miri giggled. "I couldn't resist. And this is gonna be different than walking here. We're gonna go slow, take our time, _look_ at stuff, y'know? No 'keeping up the pace' or 'covering enough ground' to worry about."

Jowan laughed at the tiny elf's attempts to mimic Vincent's deep voice. "You can't quite get it, Mir."

"Good," she shot back. "I'd honestly be scared if I did get it. Now, are you sure you don't wanna come?"

"I'm sure."

"What're you gonna do with yourself? Won't you get bored?"

Jowan shrugged. "I'll write Rahna, or sleep, or something." He grinned at her. "You don't have to worry about me."

"Alright, if you're sure..." she muttered, pushing herself to her feet. "We'll be back in a few hours."

"See you then." Jowan shut the door behind her and then watched out the window until he saw the two women head down the path that led back toward the city. They made a funny pair; Miri, who was small-even for an elf-and the tall Nevarran warrior. From the time they'd spent traveling, Jowan knew Miri and Ashe differed as much in personality as they did in appearance. While Miri was mischievous, outgoing, and tended to wear her feelings on her sleeve, Ashe was serious, quieter, more likely to hide things under a calm exterior. To hear Vincent tell it, she was a "right holy terror" in a fight, but Jowan had yet to see her lose control like her brother claimed she could. He knew he would, sooner or later. They were here to help fight darkspawn, so it would only be a matter of time before they got down to business.

**oOo**

It was getting dark before Miri and Ashe got back. Jowan wasn't really surprised. With the number of impressive buildings, and the merchants' stalls, and the sheer size of the city, he'd fully expected that the two of them would end up wringing every last bit of light out of the day to see as much as possible.

Miri didn't even knock before pushing open the door of his room, grinning when she caught him sprawled across the bed and staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head. "Hey, lazybones," she teased.

"You _really _need to get the hang of knocking, Miri," Jowan commented, not taking his eyes off the ceiling. "This isn't the Circle tower. People might frown on you just barging in."

"You're not people," Miri pointed out, "you're Jowan. We've been best friends for what, thirteen years? _Little_ different," she chuckled as she plopped down on the edge of his bed. "And what's so bloody interesting about the ceiling?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Just didn't have anything better to do."

"Told you you should've come with me an' Ashe," Miri ribbed. "Wouldn't have gotten bored."

"Who says I'm bored?" Jowan gave her shoulder a playful shove as he sat up.

"If staring at the ceiling's the best you can come up with..." she let the sentence trail off.

"For your information, I've only been staring at the ceiling for...five minutes," he protested, tugging out the cord holding back his hair to fix his ponytail. "I wrote a letter to Rahna, explored a little, indulged those soldiers who wanted to hear about Rahna-like I said, thanks for that-"

"You're welcome," Miri riposted with a grin.

"I'm serious, Miri. They're worse then, well, _you_." Jowan grinned at her as he picked at the knot in the cord.

"Hey!" She crossed her arms and tried to glare at him, without much success.

"Mir, you were pretty bad at first."

"But only at first!" She uncrossed her arms to punch his shoulder.

"That's why I said they're _worse_ than you," Jowan teased, rubbing his shoulder with one hand and gathering his hair in the other.

Miri huffed in exasperation. "Fine. I'll concede the point."

"So what did _you_ do?" Jowan asked as he tied his hair back.

"Oh, just wandered where our feet wanted to take us. Ashe is a lot of fun when she's off-duty," Miri chuckled. "Still quiet, but since I talk enough for both of us, it balanced out in the end. I bought new earrings. And a hair clip, because mine was cracking."

"Good for you. Glad you had a good time." Jowan chuckled at the look his comment earned him. "I'm not female, Mir. That's the best you're going to get from me."

"Oh, you..." She leaned over to grab his pillow and swung it at him.

"Real mature," he laughed as he dodged, catching both of her wrists in one hand and relieving her of the pillow.

"You know me; never grew up," Miri retorted with a cheeky grin.

Jowan rolled his eyes. "Truer words were never spoken. Fun as this is, you might want to get to bed. Vincent said we drew some 'grunt work'-his words-assignment in the Deep Roads tomorrow, since we're the newest Wardens here, and you probably don't want to be getting tired down there."

"I think _those_ might be the truest words ever spoken," Miri commented. "And don't you love being the newbies?"

"Oh, yes, it's so _fun_. G'night, Mir." Jowan shot a pointed look at the door.

"Fine, fine. G'night yourself, grumpy." Miri made a face at him, hopped off the bed, and was gone before he had a chance to retort.

**oOo**

Their adventure into the Deep Roads the next day was the first time since saving Rahna's neck that Jowan had fought darkspawn, and they were only marginally less terrifying this time. He found it mildly comforting that Miri looked as relieved as he was that being mages meant they got to kill the things from a distance. Most of the time. A few managed to get past Vincent and Ashe just due to the sheer numbers, which made things very...interesting.

"You alright?" Ashe panted, wrenching her twin axes free of the last shriek's skull when they finished dealing with a particularly large group of darkspawn.

"Just fine," Miri promised, shouldering her staff. "Was running a little low on mana there at the end, but I'll be okay."

Jowan just nodded when Ashe looked over at him. Satisfied, she strode off to join her brother. Having seen her in combat now, Jowan had to disagree with Vincent's assessment of "right holy terror". The woman was a bloody-literally-_whirlwind_ of death. The darkspawn never stood a chance. _Note to self: never, __**ever**__ make her mad..._ He surpressed a chuckle at the thought as he and Miri followed the two warriors into the tunnels ahead.

_A/N: And I finally got around to another of those Jowan and Miri chapters I mentioned doing occassionally! Yay me! I missed them enough to finally write them more. This chapter was just about as easy as the last one was hard, which was nice. Miri's such a brat sometimes... that's what makes her so fun to write. xD _

_Yes, Ashe is a dual-wielding warrior(and a berserker like Gabriel). Vincent uses a sword and shield. They're pretty cool, at least in my head, so I'm hoping for a chance to write them more. As if I needed more OCs to keep straight..._


	19. Distractions

19. Distractions

"Sod it all!" I glare at the wooden chest wedged down behind the staircase and wiggle the lockpick free to try again.

"Problem, Commander?"

I spare a brief glance up at Nathaniel before returning my attention to the locked chest. "This bloody thing is jammed, and good, too." I huff a lock of hair out of my eyes as I try again, hearing the quiet chuckle that could only be him. "'S not funny," I grumble. Whatever's jamming the lock is obviously beyond my skill to un-jam, which I'm sure Zev would be teasing me about if he were here. "Andraste's_ knickerweasels_!" This time Anders laughs. "I hate you all."

"Could I have a look?"

I sigh and scoot out of Nathaniel's way. "Knock yourself out."

I nearly scream, and do bury my face in my hands, when it takes him all of ten seconds to pop open the lock that I wrestled without success for ten minutes. "I'm sure you helped, Commander."

"Don't try to make me feel better," I mutter, kicking open the lid.

"I'm not." His small smile is almost sheepish. "You probably did loosen some things that made it easier."

"Ooh-hoo, come to Papa!" Oghren crows at the sight of the flask of something alcoholic. He snatches it up and guzzles a mouthful.

"Oghren! What if that's poisoned?" I shake my head at him.

"No better way to go, Commander," he retorts with a laugh.

_Can't really argue with that... _I sigh and pull out the cracking leather pouch that lay next to the flask, glancing over the papers inside before stowing it in my pack. "Come on, we need to get moving." I glower at the chest once more for good measure before heading for the rickety wooden stairs that descend into the chasm.

Nathaniel catches the evil look and chuckles. "If it's any consolation, Commander, getting that open ruined my lockpick. The next one's all yours."

"Pretty flimsy lockpick, if that thing broke it," I mutter, trying to still be at least mildly put out.

"No. Just old," he corrects. "The whole set is, really."

"Sentimental value or practicality make you hang on to it for so long?"

"Both," he replies after a second's thought. "There wasn't anything better available in Kirkwall, and this set was a gift from my sister."

"Ah. Then I can't really blame you for hanging on to it," I concede with a smile.

**oOo**

By the time we descend through the corruption-riddled opening to the dwarven ruins below, our group has grown from four to five. Sigrun is perhaps the first member of the Legion of the Dead I've met who's actually cheerful about her assured and impending death. In fact, she's as cheerful and chatty as Nathaniel is serious and quiet.

Contrasts and determination to die aside, she seems a capable fighter, and she knows the ruins. So when she tells me that _something_ is going on in the old fortress-Kal'Hirol, she calls it-I ask her to come along with us to investigate.

I think she sees it as a chance to die in actuality as well as figuratively, because she agrees far faster than anyone who prefers living ever would. "Sure thing, Commander."

Fade barks happily and bathes what of her face is showing under her helmet. She giggles and then winces. "Ow! Cracked a rib," she explains when I shoot her a concerned look.

"Oh. Anders, if you would...?"

"Sure thing, love." The casual way it rolls off his tongue would have me writing it off as Anders being Anders, if it wasn't for that dream I had last night.

_Sod it all, Alistair, you had to say something, didn't you?_ I run one hand through my hair in frustration. _Now I'm going to second guess everything he and I say to each other..._ "All set?" I ask when he's finished healing her, trying to distract myself from that train of thought.

"Yep." Sigrun nods, and we press in to the underground city.

**oOo**

_Maker, I can't believe I'm doing this again..._ I _hated_ Orzammar. It was_ underground_, and there was all that _rock_ above us, and the tunnels didn't help my claustrophobia at all. It's a small measure of solace that Nathaniel looks just as uncomfortable down here as I feel.

My claustrophobia has hit full force by the time we encounter the first darkspawn, our discovery of the dying Legionnaire a bit blurry as I struggle to get my unease under control. Combat has a way of yanking everything into sharp focus, however, and this is the first time I can remember being grateful to see a genlock. At least with them to focus on, I can ignore the surronding rock. I throw myself into the fight, concentrating solely on the darkspawn, trying to get them to pay more attention to me than Sigrun or Nathaniel since I'm immune to the taint.

I'm fighting two genlocks at the same time when I hear my absolute least favorite sound in all of Thedas rattle, whine, and keen its way out of the surrounding murk. _Oh, sweet, sodding Andraste, no, no, NO!_ I take out my anger on one of the genlocks, knock the remaining one to the ground for Fade to finish off, and whirl to dash toward where Nathaniel and Anders are standing what _should_ be a safe distance from the fight. I can sense, however, that it's about to get very, very _unsafe_.

Anders stiffens and wheels around just in time to freeze the shriek where it stands the second it appears. I hear Nathaniel mutter a curse under his breath as I hurtle past, slamming my swords into the frozen darkspawn hard enough to shatter it.

Just in time for a second shriek to materialize out of the shadows and bowl me over as it makes straight for Anders, slowed only momentarily by the wickedly damaging arrow that buries itself in the creature's shoulder.

Now there's a shriek involved in this underground battle we're fighting, one intent on killing Anders. _Underground fight, there's a shriek, it's trying to kill the healer... This is a perfect combination of my least favorite things. Could it get any worse? Never mind, don't answer that..._ I correct myself as I scramble to my feet, yelling for Oghren. However, Fade is the one who goes flying past me to knock the lanky darkspawn away from the mage, the red-haired dwarf only a few steps behind.

"Outta the way, you sodding dog!" he hollers, berserker fire burning in his eyes as he hefts his axe. "This one's mine!" Fade cocks his head and darts to the side just in time to avoid the blood-grimed weapon as the blade slices into the shriek's chest with a wet crunch.

I dodge a blow from the last genlock, rolling to the side as Sigrun dashes up behind it and buries her axe in the back of its neck. "That...all of them?"

The dwarf nods, breathing almost as hard as I am. "I think so." She rubs the back of one hand across her forehead to push back sweaty hair and then frowns. "Oh, ancestors... where'd my helmet go?" Axe and dirk are hastily stowed as she goes searching. The helmet is dented beyond repair when she finds it, however. She'll be doing without now, like me.

I chuckle and turn to offer Anders a hand up. "You alright?"

He's already halfway to his feet. "I think so." He rubs the back of his head with one hand. "Just banged my head. Your dog kept that thing from doing any real damage."

"I think something in the imprinting process transferred my intense hatred of shrieks to him as well, " I joke. "Lemme make sure you didn't crack your skull open or anything." I push on his shoulder to get him to turn.

"Rahna, don't you think I'd be the first one to notice if my skull cracked open?"

"I dunno... that's an awful thick skull you have..." I shoot back, teasing in hopes of hiding the faint tremor of worry. Fortunately, there's no damage beyond a lovely purplish-black bruise starting just above the collar of his robes. "All clear. Like I said, thick skull." I give his ponytail an impish tug.

"Brat," he mutters, grinning as he tweaks one of my pigtails. "Shouldn't you be acting more... I don't know, Commander-like? Not pulling hair, that kind of thing?"

"Where's the fun in that?" I shoot back, offering a final cheeky grin before turning to lead the way deeper into the dank, corrupted passages ahead.

**oOo**

There are a couple more groups of darkspawn to fight; mostly hurlocks with a scattering of genlocks. By the time we've reached the imposing dwarven fortress, I need a rest. My lack of sleep last night is finally catching up to me. We sit on the steps outside the archway into the outer courtyard of the fortress for a minute. Unfortunately, the break in fighting means a break in my distraction from the fact we're _underground_, and I feel the beginning hints of claustrophobia slithering into my mind again.

_Don't be ridiculous, Rahna...there's no reason to feel claustrophobic just because you're underground; you've been in surface buildings with less room than this and been fine. Stay calm, stay calm... _I somehow manage to keep the encroaching panic locked in a back corner of my brain.

There's a complaint from settling stone somewhere above our heads as we stand to continue. Oghren and Sigrun ignore it completely, Anders hardly bats an eye, but me and Nathaniel both snap our heads back to look so fast I hurt my neck. The two of us exchange an uneasy look. _I think we have __**way**__ more in common than he'll admit._"Ow," I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck with a rueful chuckle.

"Maker's breath, how do you _stand_ it?" Nathaniel mutters.

"Stand what?" Sigrun cocks her head and looks up at him.

"_Living_ under all this rock." He gestures toward the high stone ceiling.

She shrugs, looks puzzled. "I don't understand. We...just _do_."

"I mean this place... and Orzammar is under a mountain. Just thinking about the crushing weight of a mountain overhead makes me shudder." I want to hug him for that; just knowing I'm not the only one ill at ease with the idea makes me extremely happy.

"Surfacers live in buildings, right?" Sigrun brushes back a wayward lock of hair and waits for him to nod before continuing, "If a building falls on you, it will make you just as dead."

"Thanks for the reminder." His tone is dark, but I hear the half-chuckle underneath.

"Come on, we need to get going. I'm not keen on the idea of having to camp down here," I point out.

"Right. We should avoid the main door," Sigrun warns. "That's where the things went bad for the Legion. We were careless, and the darkspawn were waiting. They turned the thaig's defenses against us."

The irony and backwards-ness of that has me fighting a giggle. "You mean traps?"

She nods. "And more. We need to learn from the Legion's mistake... Most old dwarven fortresses have hidden side entrances. This one should, too. That's probably our best bet to get inside."

She has a point there. If there's an easier way than immediately jumping into the middle of a mess of traps and darkspawn, I'm definitely taking it. Sneaking has always been my preferred method for combat, especially against darkspawn. I scan the walls of the courtyard, looking for a good place to start. There's a section of the wall that seems promising in the middle of the left side.

My hand has just brushed stone when I hear Anders swear, and rather loudly. "Andraste's _knickerweasels_- Rahna, _**look out**_!"

_A/N: I just love cliffhangers, don't you? *innocent smile* __I promise I will stay with Rahna and Co. next chapter(too soon to switch back to Jowan and Miri anyway...). =P And another party banter found its way into this chapter, with slight tweaks to make it flow better, given the circumstances._

_Also, I don't know why I do this to myself; I have enough trouble remembering everyone in combat as it is, now I've added another person to the mix. I must be insane... but story-wise, I think it makes sense for Sigrun to just join the group instead of replacing somebody. :D And now I'll be crossing my fingers that having three chatterboxes in such close proximity doesn't make Nathaniel just shut up entirely..._


	20. Least Expected

20. Least Expected

The warning comes just in time for me to whip out my swords, the blade of one slicing into the sinister, compact shape of whatever the sod this is exactly as I turn to face it. It squeals and writhes in the dirt until I skewer it on Topsider's Honor. One final shudder and it stills.

"There are more of them!" Sigrun hollers, running forward to meet the advancing creatures almost eagerly. Fade joins her with a yelp that sounds halfway between exultant and scared, bowling over one grub-like thing as it prepares to launch itself at Oghren.

"Little help would be appreciated!" I yell as three more crawl toward me.

"Kinda busy, Commander!" Anders shouts back, the energy of a mind blast rippling out from his staff to stun the small horde making its way toward him and Nathaniel.

I sigh, roll my eyes, and sweep my swords in dual arcs to push back the advancing creatures. "Is that the best you've got!" I goad as one blade tears through the face of the farthest right of the three and it turns belly-up with a squeal.

In answer, one of the remaining two leaps on me, catching me off guard and knocking me to the ground.

_Oh, sod, not good..._ I grunt as I push against slick-almost slimy-flesh, trying to keep scrabbling claws away from my face. _Anders, Nathaniel, anybody, __**help**__!_ I get my foot up under the thing's middle and try to kick it off. Its back legs have latched on to my armor too tightly and I can't dislodge it. _Maker, come on..._

A magic-wreathed boulder flies through the air, knocking it off me and crushing it against the wall. "You alright?" Anders hollers over his shoulder as Sigrun gives me a hand up.

I nod breathlessly, savagely kicking the corpse, and he smiles briefly in relief before turning his attention to the few still coming after him and Nathaniel.

The long reach of Oghren's battleaxe knocks them all over in one swing, an especially powerful arrow from Nathaniel's bow and a merciless stab from Sigrun's dirk insuring two of them won't be any further trouble. Fade helps me finish off the one remaining grub still dogging at my heels and Anders makes an end to the last one with a final lightning bolt.

"Maker's breath, what _are_ those things?" Nathaniel asks.

"Maybe those are the Children Jukka mentioned?" Sigrun offers, nudging one corpse with her axe.

"Would make sense," Anders agrees.

I kick one of the grub-like bodies and make a face. "If the Children are this ugly, I do _not_ want to see their mother."

Anders laughs. "I'd have to agree with you on that."

I sigh, turning my attention back to the wall. "Now, where was I?" I run my hand over the cleverly hidden seam in the stone. It doesn't want to budge. "There must be a switch or something..." The leering faces carved either side of the panel are my first guess for a hiding place, and I feel a small wave of triumph when my fingers graze against a protruding bump of rock and the panel grates open. "Ah, there we go."

"Convenient," Nathaniel mutters, his tone implying he finds it a little _too_ convenient.

"Oh, come on," Sigrun giggles. "This is perfect! The darkspawn will never see us coming."

"Do you see traps everywhere?" I tease, though part of me agrees with Nathaniel; that seemed a little too easy to find for a supposedly hidden entrance.

"Force of habit," he returns with a wry smile.

"I see. Forgive me if I hope this habit's just being overly cautious and there aren't any traps waiting for us."

**oOo**

There aren't. Kal'Hirol's hallways are filled with three things: crumbling stone, darkspawn, and spiders. Big, scary, ugly, corrupted spiders.

Oh, and ghosts. The ghosts are an interesting touch. As we walk through the hallways, the transparent forms of dwarves and darkspawn wage a ceaseless battle with no victory for either side.

"What in Andraste's name...?" Anders lets the question trail off as he waves his hand right through a genlock emissary's head.

"Don't think Andraste has anything to do with this, son," Oghren retorts, _his_ hands edging towards his axe.

The ghostly assembly in the main hall is disconcerting, to say the least, a group of dusters gathered to listen to another dwarf's attempts to rally them to fight.

"Either of you know what's going on?" I ask Sigrun and Oghren. They both shake their heads.

"Not a sodding clue, Comander," Oghren mutters.

"Sorry." Sigrun stares at the ghostly figures. "I wonder who they were..."

The pieces start coming together as we walk the only path further in: the higher castes had all abandon Kal'Hirol when it became obvious it would fall to the darkspawn, and one noble-Dailan-got the idea to arm the casteless and let them defend themselves. Sigrun's eyes go wide and she brushes her fingers against the brand on her cheek as this becomes more and more apparent; the idea someone found the casteless _worth something_ obviously means a lot to her.

We encounter another talking darkspawn in the ruined side halls; yelling at its followers to kill us, rather than fighting the ghosts. The whole group goes down easily enough. The next bunch, however, includes an alpha and two emissaries, one of which wastes no time summoning a hazy purple ball of magic and hurling it at me. The misdirection hex leaves me sputtering curses and utterly incapable of hitting _anything_.

Unfortunately for them, the two emissaries are standing close enough together that the mana clash Anders calls up kills both of them.

"Ha!" I duck under the genlock alpha's mace and roll out of the way so someone actually able to hit can get at it.

Sigrun lunges into the opening, her axe slamming down on the genlock's shoulder near its neck. It goes down with a rasping squawk of protest. "Take that you, you...nug-snuggler!"

I laugh even as I get myself even more out of the way; all the way back with Anders and Nathaniel, and watch Oghren, Fade, and Sigrun finish off the rest of the darkspawn. As the last ones fall, I notice Nathaniel scowling. "What's wrong?"

"I'm almost out of arrows," he replies, frown deepening.

"Well, that's not good." I crane my neck to look in his quiver and wince when I see 'almost out' really means 'almost out'. As in, four left. "How did that happen?" I groan, pulling at my hair in frustration. "We must have picked up near a hundred from various thugs, goons, and lowlifes."

"A hundred arows won't last very long when you do this enough," he points out.

I groan. "Well, then, that's the first order of business. We need to find arrows-"

"These do?" Sigrun pops her head out of the nook she'd begun investigating, followed by a hand clenched around a quiverful of arrows.

"If they're straight and properly fletched, then yes." They are, and I can tell he's relieved. "Well, that's one crisis averted."

I laugh. "Is that you showing a_ sense of humor_, ser Howe?"

He chuckles. "Perhaps."

"Alright, you two, moving on?" Anders asks rather pointedly.

"Yes, Mother," I tease, taking the lead as we venture even farther in. _Is it just me or did he sound jealous?_

**oOo**

By the time we descend to what I _think_ was the Trade Quarter of the city, the ghosts are gone, and the darkspawn corruption is_ everywhere_.

"Ugh." Sigrun wrinkles her nose. "This reminds me of the time a bronto fell off Orzammar's highest tier. Bronto guts all over the place."

"Ewwww." I make a face.

Oghren laughs. "I was gonna compare it to Felsi's stew, but I like yours better."

Anders and I share a look of disgust. "Oghren?"

"Yeah, Commander?"

"Don't _ever_ invite me over for dinner."

He chuckles. "Wasn't plannin' to, boss."

We make our way down the stairs, only to be met by the most bizarre thing I've seen yet: the darkspawn are fighting each other. "Sweet blood of Andraste...what is going on here?"

"Got me, Rahna," Anders mutters as we watch the two sides clash. It's only once all the "invaders" are dead that the remaining darkspawn turn their attention to us. All of them are already injured, which we use to our advantage, and they don't last long.

"That's our strategy, whenever possible from here on in," I decide as we catch our breath. "Let them kill each other first, and _then_ finish off any that are left."

"They get to do all the hard work for us?" Anders asks.

"Exactly. No sense wasting energy."

"Won't that take longer? I thought you wanted to get out of here as fast as possible," he points out.

"Hmph. True. Well, I still like the idea of letting them kill each other, especially since Nathaniel has to be careful with his arrows. Maybe a mix of both; hang back, let them do some damage, and then we finish 'em all off."

"_That_ sounds like a plan." He grins.

And it works splendidly.

**oOo**

Turns out I was sort of wrong about about the ghosts being gone. There's one more in a storage room off the main Quarter; a dwarf hurriedly working on the stone tablet that leans against the wall. All of us jolt when the ethereal form of an ogre headbutts the muttering dwarf, slamming him to the ground before both fade from view.

"What's this?" Sigrun brushes the dust off the tablet and reads the inscription. "'May the Stone remember the defenders of Kal'Hirol...who were born casteless and died warriors...'" Her heads snaps up with a quiet gasp. "Died warriors? He...he wanted them remembered as warriors!" Her eyes are shining.

"What?" Oghren protests. "You can't do that! The casteless aren't warrior caste just 'cause some high an' mighty historical figure said they are!"

"Why not?" Sigrun demands, glaring at him.

"Well, because they aren't!" he splutters.

"Cool it, you two," I warn.

"Warden, you should show this to someone from Orzammar," Sigrun practically begs.

"I don't know how much farther we have to go, and we're not lugging that with us, Sigrun. But," I add as she opens her mouth to protest, "we'll pick it up before we leave. Or come back for it. I promise." Oghren mutters something under his breath. "The deshyrs can fight over what to do with it. We have more important things to deal with right now."

"Oh, fine," she mutters. "Let's get going. I'm tired of this place."

"Me, too, darlin'," Anders comments as we head back out to the hall. "What's that?"

There's a faint glow filtering up the staircase ahead of us, and an even fainter burning smell. I shrug. "Not sure. We have to go that way as it is, so I guess we'll find out."

"Oooh, walking towards the ominous glow! Brilliant plan! If it turns out to be a dragon, you're going first."

I laugh and take the lead. "As you wish, ser mage."

_A/N:Man, it's hard picking what to gloss over and what deserves a bit more attention... I really don't want Kal'Hirol to take forever, but I also don't want to skip anything important. Argh!_

_Sigrun and Oghren's reaction to the tablet thingy are essentially their in-game ones, just changed a bit to work as a back-and-forth between them. I just hope I remember to have Rahna and Co go back to pick up the tablet on the way out, because I could totally see me forgetting to do that. xD_


	21. Anders to the Rescue

21. Anders to the Rescue

It turns out the glow is coming from a forge area with lava flowing to the middle of the room. No dragons in sight, which I make sure to point out to Anders.

He makes a face at me. "Ha, ha, very fun- Oooh, lyrium!"

I laugh, following him over to the huge bucket of irridescent blue mineral as Nathaniel and Sigrun check out the rest of the room. "Thinking of going into business?"

"Sure, why not?" he smirks. "I've always fancied life as a lyrium smuggler. Maybe I'll wear a dashing chapeau." His smile turns almost wistful as he stares at the lyrium. "Y'know, I used to be a good little Andrastian, said my prayers, repented my sins, all of it."

"What's the alternative?" I ask, though I think I already know the answer, thanks to Jowan.

"Life as a hedge mage, brewing love potions for villagers and hoping no one notices?" He shrugs. "Could've been worse. I could've been made Tranquil, haggling over the price of a wand. Or I could be with the qunari. I hear they leash their mages. Or I could be dead. Dead's bad."

I chuckle. He has a point there. "Perspective's good."

"If I didn't have perspective, m'dear, I'd still be sitting in a templar dungeon drooling on my smallclothes."

I can't resist. "'Still'? As in, you were at one point in time?"

"She's gotcha there, sparkle-fingers," Oghren laughs.

Anders shoots the dwarf a dirty look. "Nobody asked_ you_." He turns back to me. "_Anyway_, if you're done having a laugh at my expense, a sort-of related question: what _do_ Grey Wardens do when there aren't darkspawn running amok?" He grins. "I mean, are there parties? Do we travel the world? Take over small kingdoms?"

_No, we get taken for granted and die young._ "Sounds like a good start," I laugh. _I wish it were so..._

"My lady, I like the way you think. Me, I intend to take up knitting. I'll send a scarf to the knight commander every Satinalia. Provided I don't end up in some ogre's belly, chewed into tiny mage pieces," he amends. "But, I'm an optimist."

"You are joking, right?" I giggle.

"About what, the knitting, or the getting eaten?"

"Hopefully both." By this point I'm giggling so hard, I brace one hand against a nearby pillar to keep from falling over.

"It's not _that_ funny, Rahna," Anders points out, looking at me like I'm out of my mind.

"I...know," I gasp out between fits of giggling. "I don't know why I can't stop laughing..."

He tugs on my arm. "Let's get you away from the lyrium, just in case."

"Good... idea." I can feel my head spinning, but if it was the lyrium, wouldn't it have affected Anders, too? And worse than it did me? _I'm too dizzy to be worrying about this right now..._ I offer him a grateful smile as my head clears. "Thanks."

We move on from the room after thoroughly examining the one unusual thing Sigrun and Nathaniel found; a golem and anvil that have been enchanted to repair damaged equipment and weapons. I make use of it to repair some things we've found on our way in, and then we're off.

**oOo**

There's no end to the surprises hiding in the corrupted hallways of this place. First, there's the man we find, cowering in a cage suspended over lava, his face streaked with sweat and grime. Sigrun, Oghren, and I all find it incredibly odd that he's not dead, and the dwarves are both angered by the fact he was in here to look for valuables. Their shared pique seems to help them get over the lingering animosity from finding the tablet, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks as I let the man go.

"Are you sure that was wise?" Nathaniel asks, his tone quiet and concerned. "If he has the taint-"

"I thought of that." I shake my head. "I didn't sense any taint in him. I'm sure he's fine."

"If you say so, Commander." He shrugs.

The second surprise is more of the Children, the grub-like darkspawn from the courtyard. A pair of them leap on two unfortunate hurlocks as we round a corner, tearing messily at the darkspawn flesh, and then...change right in front of us, legs sprouting where there were none moments before, their faces-for lack of a better word-seeming to _split open_ as they screech and charge at us. _Oooooh, Maker..._ If I wasn't supposed to be in charge right now, I swear I'd scream in terror. With the five of us-plus Fade-working together, both creatures fall rather easily, but they were still the creepiest thing I'd ever seen by a long shot.

Just past them is a crypt, glowing runes carved into the walls and floor. When Oghren and Nathaniel happen to touch two of the floor runes and they glow even brighter before switching places, I'm intrigued. It's fairly simple to figure out that we need to match the floor rune to the rune carved on the wall above, and with so many people, it's the work of a moment to test that idea. As Fade paws the last floor panel, there's a clanking noise, and the lid of the actual crypt lifts.

"Maker, wasn't expecting _that_," I mutter as I peek inside. There's a few worthwhile things, which I-rather guiltily-take.

"Grave robber," Anders teases in a whisper as we leave the room. I blush and elbow him in the ribs. "Ow!"

"You had it coming," I mutter, smiling nonetheless. "And if I were you, I'd remember who's carrying all the food before making smart remarks. I might not give you any." Oh, _Maker_, his face... "That increased appetite still giving you trouble, ser mage?"

"Yes, it is, and I think I hate you right now, you cruel, cruel woman." His grin belies that statement, but I still play along.

"Nonsense. I'm entirely too lovable for anyone to hate me," I tease, hearing a noise that sounds suspiciously like a strangled-off laugh behind us. When I turn to look back, all three of the others are very plainly looking anywhere but at me and Anders. I still shoot a hard look at Oghren, who I think is the most likely culprit, before turning back to Anders. "But you're not earning any points when you say things like that, y'know. I'm tempted to give your share of dinner tonight to Oghren."

"You wouldn't."

"I would. Unless you somehow manage to earn your way back into my good graces."

"Rah-_na_!" He looks almost frantic, like he half-believes me.

"Oh, don't worry; I'm sure you'll do something fantastic like save the day and win me over and everything will be _fine_." I put an exaggerated emphasis on the last word, grinning impishly at him.

**oOo**

Had I known how sodding true my joking prediction would end up being, I'd have kept my mouth shut.

After a bit more traveling through corruption-smeared rooms and tunnel, fighting Children and regular darkspawn what feel likes every step of the way, we come to a long hallway in the lower reaches of the city. And I mean _long._ I can't even see the far end of the bloody thing.

"Ooh, the suspense is killing me," Anders mutters, eyes darting back and forth.

"Tell me about it," I mutter. A hushed murmuring fills my ears as we follow the hallway toward its now-visible end, feeling almost like the twisting vertigo of nearby darkspawn, but there's something different. Wrong. "D'you feel that?" I ask Anders. He nods silently, reaching for his staff.

The sight that greets us when we pass through the doorway at the end of the tunnel is not one I'll soon forget; two darkspawn, much like the talking one at the Vigil, and _the_ biggest golem I have ever seen in my life. Maker as my witness, that thing is at least twice the size of Caradin. It punches one of the darkspawn, wearing silver and purple armor, to the ground, and then picks it up, holding it toward the other darkspawn, clad in black and red armor.

This darkspawn rails at the defeated one, talking about some Architect, who it calls a coward, before referring to itself as the Lost and swearing that all who serve the Architect will die as a warning to this Architect from some "Mother".

At that, the golem preceeds to rip the defeated darkspawn in two. All five of us curse at that, though at various volumes. I hear the rasp of weapons being drawn behind me, even as the Lost turns to face us.

"Who comes now?" it growls, squinting as if trying to see us more clearly. "I can feel you, but you are no darkspawn! What trickery is he planning?"

"You all ready for a fight?" I whisper, receiving affirmative answers from everyone, even though Fade whines and presses against the back of my legs.

"You will die! As all who serve the Architect will die! The Mother demands it!" the Lost howls.

_Oh, sod..._I don't know how we're going to do this; fight both the golem and the darkspawn mage at the same time.

Anders temporarily solves that problem by trapping the golem inside a force field, allowing us to focus on the Lost. "That won't last forever, so I'd hurry if I were you!"

"Noted!" I holler back, ducking to the side in order to avoid the ice spell that hurtles in our direction from the darkspawn's staff. Sigrun and Fade aren't quite fast enough, and get caught in the torrent of magic, leaving me as the sole target for the Lost, since Oghren is still a few paces behind me. "Andraste's_ knickerweasels_!"

"That's my line!" Anders protests from across the room, conjuring a stonefist to send flying toward the mage.

"Well, now it's also mine!" I yell back, slashing against the darkspawn's chest in a vicious x-pattern that sends it stumbling backwards.

"Save it for later, you two!" Nathaniel hollers at us.

I resist the urge to holler back 'Yes, Mother' or a reminder of who's in charge here, mostly because I don't want to take my attention off the darkspawn mage, even as the stonefist knocks it off its feet. As it rises, an arrow whistles over my shoulder to bury half its length high up on the Lost's chest. _Good shot...could've been better, but then, I guess I __**am**__ kind of in his way._ A thought hits me. "Anders, do that mana clash thing!"

"Already tried that; didn't work!"

"Dammit!" I ram the hilt of one sword against the darkspawn's forehead to take out my frustration, and it goes stumbling right into the path of Oghren's axe. The darkspawn is one tough son of a bitch, however, and hardly seems phased by our attacks. It lets out a gutteral growl and flings its hands out in a spell that slams a wall of magical energy into all of us except Anders and Nathaniel, who are out of its range. Oghren and Sigrun being dwarves, they have a higher level of magic resistance and regain their balance after only a couple backwards steps to avoid falling over.

Fade and I, however, both go flying, and I'd swear I _hear_ my head bounce off the wall as stars fill my skull. _Sod, Alistair, that really hurt..._

"Rahna!" Anders completely loses his concentration for whatever spell he was trying to work up.

Fighting double vision and wobbly-beyond-cooperation knees as I struggle to regain my feet, I gesture toward the failing shield preventing the golem from moving. "Look... out..." I lose my balance and fall again, not able to stop my head from banging against the stone floor.

The last thing I hear before the lights go out is Anders' muttered, "Oh, by the bloody Void, _not good_..."

**oOo**

"Rahna, wake up." The voice is masculine, familiar, although I can't exactly place it. Not many men I know who'd be telling me to wake up, though...

_But I'm having a good dream, Alistair._

"Rahna, I swear..._get up_!"

_No... not Alistair. Can't be Alistair._

"Maybe you should wait a bit longer. You may end up doing more harm than good."

"Shut it, Howe. Rahna, for the love of all that is good and holy in this world, would you sodding _**wake up**_!"

_Who...what...?_ I groan and mutter a string of disjointed syllables. Feeling suddenly floods through me, and I'm aware of the cold stone underneath me, and hands on my shoulders. Their borderline-desperate grasp pulls me the rest of the way back to reality. Well, almost. "Alistair..." the mumbled name slips free unbidden, despite knowing, _knowing_ that it's not him and never will be.

"Come _on_, Rahna."

The memory of magic, and darkspawn, and a bloody huge fiery stone thing straightens itself out in my head, the last thing I remember coming through crystal clear even still. _The golem was getting free... He was in trouble, I... think. He needed help and I __**let him down.**_ My eyes snap open. "Anders!"

"There you are." The relief in his voice is unmistakable. "You had me worried for a minute, Rahna." I wince as sitting up sends a spike of pain shooting through my head. "Easy," he cautions, offering a relieved grin. "You've got a pretty thick skull y'self if that knock you took didn't do any permenant damage, which I don't think it did, but I wouldn't move too fast if I were you."

"Noted," I mumble."So what...what happened? With the golem, and all?"

"Oh, Anders and I kinda saved the day, that's all," Sigrun pipes up, grinning madly beneath a black eye.

I raise an eyebrow-which hurts, but not enough to make me stop-and shoot her a curious look. "Do tell..."

So she does, using her hands almost as much as her words. Turns out the golem was a bigger problem than the darkspawn mage. Fire spells didn't harm it much, of course, and Anders doesn't know too many ice spells-which he swears to rectify in the near future, "just to be safe"-so it was a matter of slowly chipping away at it. Said chipping happened even more slowly after the thing punched Oghren hard enough to knock him out, too-right as Nathaniel ran out of arrows again. With the rest of us all out of the fight for one reason or another, that meant Sigrun and Anders taking it down just the two of them.

"Well, what about the Lost?"

"It spent a lot of its energy on that blast thing it did that knocked you out, and while it was recovering, Nathaniel shot it in the eye." Sigrun grins up at him as he shrugs. "Still don't know how he did it."

"It was a lucky shot, I told you that already," he tells her, his tone one of quiet patience, which makes me think he's already said it more than once.

"And _I_ already told you I don't believe you," she retorts, still grinning.

"I'm-ow! I'm fine, Anders-I'm inclined to side with Sigrun," I comment as I shift position and try to stand, which maybe wasn't the smartest idea. My vision doubles again for a second, and I reluctantly settle back into a sitting position. "Maker's breath, this is annoying..."

"Here." Nathaniel offers me a hand up, which I accept.

"Thanks. And as I was saying, I'm with Sigrun. I know how good you are, Nathaniel Howe. I doubt it was just a lucky shot." I brace one hand against the wall and rub the back of my head, wincing when I feel the size of the bump sprouting just behind my left ear. It doesn't really hurt, but Maker, that thing's big.

"I know you didn't want to camp down here, Rahna, but you really should take it easy for a while," Anders points out as he stands. "This place wouldn't be so bad. Less corruption, only two doorways that would need watching..." He sighs when he sees he's not convincing me. "Look, you and Oghren are in no shape to go charging off into another fight right now."

"Oh, fine, you win," I mutter, reaching down to rub Fade's head as the mabari sidles up to me. "We'll camp here tonight. I guess it's night... Sod it all, who knows. And Anders?"

"Hm?" He's started to walk away, but swings back around.

"When I said you'd have to save the day in order to get back in my good graces, I didn't mean it quite this literally."

"Clarification noted," he laughs, before turning to help Nathaniel and Sigrun set up camp.

_A/N: Muahahaha that was fun to write. :D Yes, the lyrium conversation at the beginning is another I pulled pretty much straight from the game, but it's too perfect, and c'mon, it's Anders. On the topic of Anders...I wound up watching all these party banter videos from Awakening on youtube(yay for fun "research"=DDD) and I swear I wanted to cry because I miss Awakening!Anders soooooo much now. =( Darn you, BioWare._

_And yes, I was sorely tempted to end the chapter with Rahna blacking out. But I figured I was just that evil, what, two chapters ago, plus it would've been too short, and I decided to spare you. So I took it through Anders and Sigrun being all awesome and saving the day. Hopefully, just one more chapter with mention of Kal'Hirol before they head back to the Vigil(yay for impending politics...Rahna's gonna love that). _


	22. Anniversary

22. Anniversary

Seven months.

I realize that as I sort through all the things we've picked up and watch the others set up camp. Today is seven months since Fort Drakon. Seven months since the end of the Blight. Seven months since Alistair died. My fingers curl around the twisted together cords of the two necklaces I wear, my thumb brushing the crack-riddled surface of _his_ amulet as I nudge the Warden's Oath pendant aside. _Maker, I miss him..._ The ache may have dulled by this point; most of me may be ready to _try_ moving on, but I still miss him. On top of that, it's been a whole month since I've seen Gabriel, two since I last saw Jowan or Miri, and almost three since I saw Zev. _Lots of people to miss_, I remind myself, eyeing the gold band on my ring finger.

"You alright, Commander?" Nathaniel startles me; the man's eerily good at walking silently _and_ he came up on my bad side, so I couldn't see him.

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine. Not really good at the whole 'sitting still' thing, but-" I shrug and grin, "-healer's orders. And he didn't seem willing to negotiate, either."

Nathaniel chuckles. "No, he didn't." He takes in the plethora of weapons, jars, knick-knacks, and plain old _junk_ spread out around me and raises an eyebrow. "What is all that?"

"Everything we've picked up off dead bodies, looted chests, and various other places since, oh, _Amaranthine_. It's getting ridiculous and I wanna get rid of some of the junk, like this." I hold up a tattered and waterstained trade manifest before tossing it toward what's become the "junk" pile. "We don't need to be carrying stuff like that around, and it's helping me not feel useless."

"I see."

"Oh, hang on a second." I snag his wrist as he starts to walk away.

"Yes, Commander?"

"I found somethin' in all this mess that I think you could use." I lean forward, bracing one hand against the floor and digging through my "keep" pile with the other until I find what I'm looking for. "Here." I hand over the patched-together soft leather case. "I figured you need it more than I do, since yours broke."

He flips open the case and something I can't read flickers in his eyes as he looks over the lockpick set inside. "You sure you can't use these yourself, Commander?"

"I'm sure I _could_-it's better'n mine-but I don't _need to_. My set's still fine, and it was my mother's. Sentimental value and all that, y'know." I shrug. "If you want, just take what you need; we can keep the rest in case either of us breaks another one."

"I..." He sighs. "I'll do that. Thank you."

I smile, slightly amazed that there was nothing the least bit grudging in his voice. _That's progress..._ "Welcome." I watch him for a few seconds as he walks back towards the others before turning my attention back to the mess of _stuff _in front of me. _Let's see what I can do about this..._ I use sorting it all out as a way to distract myself from the looming melancholy.

_Seven months..._

**oOo**

I'm forced to face said melancholy head on when Anders notices that I'm abnormally quiet while we're eating. "What's wrong, Rahna?"

_Sod it, why'd he have to phrase it like that?_ I can't dodge answering without lying. "Just thinking. Today's seven months since Fort Drakon. Since the archdemon was killed and we saved the world from the Blight." I don't fight the mildly bitter edge of sarcasm.

"So... I'm confused." Sigrun frowns. "If you_ won_, shouldn't you be happy?"

"I'm sure everyone else is," I reply with a wistful half smile. "But that battle cost me too bloody much."

"What... what did it cost you?" I can't blame her for being so curious; I'm just as bad. Jowan can bear witness to _that_.

"Sight in my left eye and the man I loved." It's a simple, candid statement of fact; nothing more. I'm not crying my eyes out, not forcefully holding back tears, not trying to make her feel bad.

She still does, I can tell. "I... Oh. Sorry."

"Sigrun, it's alright," I assure her. "I just... can't help but think about it today is all. Having a man tell you saving your life by sacrificing _his_ is the sanest thing he's ever done tends to stick with you."

"I guess it would," she mutters.

**oOo**

Finishing up in Kal'Hirol goes faster than I thought it would. In fact, had I known it would be so easy, I'd have fought Anders a little more about the whole camping down here thing. I hardly got any sleep, thanks to the claustrophobia nibbling at the edges of my mind. There's a short hallway from the area where we camped, and then the room with the broodmothers in a sunken pit in the middle.

Sigrun shies away, distate in her eyes. "I... I'm afraid to look too closely. What if one of them is someone I knew?"

A group of tentacles explodes out of the floor, sending all of us backpedaling towards the doorway before I can reply. "Maker's breath!" I run my eyes over the room, a wicked smile curving my lips when I see the heavy globe suspended near the ceiling, four brittle-looking chains running down near the corners of the broodmother pit.

Anders whistles when he sees where I'm looking. "Maker, that's a lot of lyrium."

An idea forms in my mind. "Anders, you, Oghren, and Sigrun keep those things busy. Nathaniel, you still have that dagger? From the bandit?"

He pulls it out. "I do."

"Those chains look old. I think if we break a couple of them, it'll drop that lyrium container-thing on the broodmothers and we can kill all of 'em at once. I've fought a broodmother before; trust me, you don't want to go through that." The memory of plate armor rattling against stone and Alistair climbing-slowly-to his feet for the umpteenth time roars to life in my head, so real I can almost see it. I shake my head to stay in the present. There's no time for this right now. "You go left, I'll go right."

He nods. "Understood."

"Everybody ready?" They all nod. "Then let's get this over with." I run foward, dodging right around the tentacles as Nathaniel goes left. I was right about the chains; they're old, rusted, and only take a couple heavy hits from my dagger to shatter a link. Nathaniel's breaks a second or two later, and the huge globe of lyrium plummets down atop the broodmothers. Their shrieks cut off abruptly, and the silence is nearly deafening.

Sigrun wants to leave; go back to the Deep Roads and fulfill her Legionnaire vows. It doesn't take much, however, to talk her into joining the Wardens. All I have to do is point out she'll still be fighting darkspawn, still probably die, and be better at fighting darkspawn.

"Ha! How do I say no to that?" the dwarf laughs. "You win."

"Excellent," I grin right back. "Let's pick up that tablet of Dailan's and head back to the Vigil, then. We need a break before we investigate any of these other leads."

**oOo**

We may need a break, but what I get upon returning to the Vigil is news that the nobles have come to swear fealty to their new arl.

I groan. _Maker, no... large groups of self-important humans and __**politics**__ are not what I had in mind. I want to sleep. In a real bed. And eat a hot meal. And maybe write back to Jowan. _"Tell Varel I'll be right there," I mutter to the private keeping watch at the entrance to the keep. I turn to Nathaniel and Sigrun as she calls over another soldier to pass along the message. "Maybe he can take care of your Joining while I'm in there. Oghren, can you give that tablet to Voldrik or Dworkin? I guess one of them would be the best way to get it to Orzammar." He grumbles but nods. "Good. Thank you. You, however-" I grab Anders' arm, "-are coming with me. For moral support."

"Moral support?" he chuckles.

"Uh-huh. I don't do well with large groups of humans, especially nobles, and I need to know _someone's _got my back. C'mon." I can already feel a headache starting in my temples as I drag him toward the throne room. _Better than the panic attack I had last time_, I remind myself, hesitating in front of the door as memories crowd my mind. I know I'm still wearing my beat-up and currently blood-stained leather armor, but I honestly can't bring myself to give a damn. I'm the Commander of the bloody Grey, if I look the part, so be it. I push the door open and step into the room. _Let's get this over with..._

**oOo**

The first thing I do upon entering the throne room is tell Varel about Nathaniel and Sigrun. Considering the circumstances of Nathaniel's _last_ visit to the Vigil, I want to make sure they don't try to haul him off to the dungeon again. The seneschal nods, explains what's involved in this ceremony, and then leaves to oversee the Joining.

From the moment Bann Esmerelle inclines her head and murmurs the oath of fealty, I distrust her. She looks like a shriveled-up prune, with eyes as shifty and dead as Rendon Howe's. I can't bring myself to believe this woman means the words she utters, and make a note to keep an eye on her.

Lord Eddelbrek is a much easier person to talk to, even if he does press a bit hard for soldiers to protect the farmland, more specifically _his_ farmland. Having seen what the darkspawn did to the Turnoble estate, however, I can hardly blame the man. After I finish talking to him, I wander over to where Anders is standing.

"Enjoying y'self, _arlessa_?" he chuckles, leaning back against the wall.

"Call me that again, and I swear you're sleeping on the roof," I shoot back, giving him a dirty look.

He laughs. "Boy, she's touchy, isn't she, Ser Pounce-a-lot?" The cat blinks at him from his perch on the mage's shoulder before curling up to fall asleep.

"He's looking rather umimpressed with the goings-on," I comment.

Anders shrugs. "What do politics matter to a cat?"

"True," I concede. "I suppose he doesn't really care about the latest Orlesian fashions, or whether I should be more concerned about protecting the city, the farms, or trade, or any of that."

"Can't say I find it all that interesting, either, Rahna. Still, if you find any stray damsels in distress, send them my way."

I laugh. "Oh, it's the least I could do for you, ser mage."

Something catches his eye and he nods toward a blonde woman on the far side of the room. "Looks like Ser Tamra wants to talk to you rather badly."

I raise one eyebrow as I follow his gaze. "So I see. Well, back into the snake pit."

**oOo**

Ser Tamra informs me of a conspiracy formed by Howe loyalists-no better word for it-who "mean to end you before you can begin", as she puts it.

_Maker, theses idiots... I'm trying to save their sorry arses from the darkspawn, and they're plotting to __**kill**__ me? I swear, I will never understand nobles. _I ask for proof, and she promises to bring letters she's intercepted from the conspirators as soon as possible. As we're talking, I see Varel return to the throne room and cut the conversation short as graciously as I can. I know what I need to know, _he_ needs to be informed, and I need to know how the Joining went. _Maker, let them both have made it... please, please, please._

"Commander," the seneschal greets me with a nod as I approach.

"Seneschal. How did the Joining go?"

"Both the dwarf and Howe survived."

_Thank the Maker. Sweet Andraste, was I worried._ "Good."

He raises an eyebrow at my relief. "Commander, are you certain it's wise to recuit a Howe?"

Part of me bristles-I trust Nathaniel; maybe more than I should-but the rest has to admit Varel has a point. "He asked to join. And... I don't know..." I sigh. "I just trust my gut and my dog on things like this, and neither one's failed me so far. He hasn't tried anything yet, and I have a feeling it'll stay that way. He's not like his father."

"If you're sure..."

"I am. Besides, there are other things for me to worry about, like troop distribution, and a conspiracy against me."

That catches his attention. "Oh? Do you know who is involved in this conspiracy?"

I shake my head. "Ser Tamra couldn't tell me."

"She's a sly one, Ser Tamra," Varel cautions. "Still, if this is real, what do you want to do about it, Commander? There are options available." He gives me a list and lets me think it over.

"Honestly, seneschal, I don't think I'm going to do a bloody thing," I finally reply, half-smile tugging at my lips. "This isn't the first time. Better men have tried. And failed. Horribly."

He chuckles. "Loghain and half the kingdom tried to stop you last time. I suppose there isn't much to worry about. Anything else?"

I look at the milling crowd of silk and satin clad humans and feel the edges of panic start to press in. _Longest I've ever made it. I'm rather proud of myself for that. Alistair, if you could see me now..._ "This ceremony has gone on long enough, seneschal. There are other matters that require my attention."

"Of course, Commander." He turns to the crowd and raises his voice. "Clear the hall; the Commander has business to attend to!"

"Thank you, Varel." I watch the nobles filter out before heading back to my room. I need to hit something, but I know that will have to wait; thanks to the Joining two of my Wardens will be unavailable for a while yet, and besides, we all need sleep.

But there's something else I want to take care of first, so I don't forget. I tug out and unfold a crumpled and somewhat worse-for-wear letter from the pouch on my belt where it's been residing and skim over it again. A wry smile twists my lips at the end as I reach for the necessary things to write a reply.

_Just a short note... and then a long nap..._

_A/N: I checked the timeline three times before giving a specific 'x-number-of-months', but if I'm somehow still wrong, let me know. I'm also paranoid that seven months is too soon for her to start-just __**start**__- moving on from Alistair. But I don't want it to take a ridiculously long time, either. ERGH. Yeah... tricky balance is tricky. xD_

_At least Nathaniel and Sigrun are Wardens now, and we're through both Kal'Hirol and the Oaths of Fealty quest. Rahna's currently threatening a whole range of unpleasant consequences if I don't give her a good long break from politics. One that involves venting her frustrations on unfortunate darkspawn types._


	23. Old Habits Die Hard

23. Old Habits Die Hard

My nap yields another dream about Alistair, which-despite telling myself I'm trying to move on-I enjoy. This one, unlike every other I've had, starts to blur and fade the moment my eyes open. I stare at the ceiling, trying to remember what happened, what we said and did, but can't.

"That's frustrating," I mutter to the air, pushing off my pillow and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I run my hand through my hair, finishing the destruction of my pigtails as the strings snarl on my fingers and pull free.

I shake my head and stand, picking at the knots so I can redo my hair. There's still a lot to do, starting with a meal. I'm starting to feel shaky. My stomach gurgles at the thought, pushing all intentions of any other more Commander-esque duties out of my mind.

I fix my hair, pick up my letter for Jowan to give to the private at the gate, and head for the kitchen. No one's around, so I filch a bowl of stew from the pot hanging over the fire and make my escape to the wall for some peace and quiet while I eat.

Apparently, great minds think alike. Sigrun's already up there, bowl of stew balanced on her knee and her feet swinging over the edge of the ramparts.

"You swipe some too?" she grins at me as I join her.

I shrug, grinning back sheepishly. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Tell me about it," she laughs. "Everywhere I look around here, there's something that sets my fingers twitching."

"Back when we were fighting the Blight, Alistair used to catch me stealing things off carts, or swiping people's money pouches, and he'd point out that while _he'd_ love me bad habits and all, the rest of Ferelden probably wouldn't be so kind. And the Grey Wardens had a shabby enough image anyway at the point, I didn't want to make it worse by getting caught stealing. Sort of broke the habit after that."

Sigrun giggles. "Hm. True."

"Oh, my fingers still twitch when I walk past something shiny, don't worry. I understand what _that's_ like." I dig in to the stew, my stomach nearly cheering as the first bite slides down my throat. "Mmm. Oh, Maker, I needed that. Hey, Sigrun?"

"Commander?"

"Well, first, if you want, you can call me Rahna. Anders does. And speaking of Anders, you wouldn't happen to know where to find him or Nathaniel, would you?"

She shrugs. "Sorry, Commander, I haven't seen Anders since we got back, and the last I saw of Nathaniel was at our Joining."

"I'll have to track them down after we eat. We need to head for the Wending Woods, and I'm pretty sure Oghren was passed-out drunk when I walk past on my way to the kitchen."

"If I see them before you do, I'll tell them," she promises, and we both devote our full attention to eating.

**oOo**

Things don't go _quite_ the way I was planning, however. Nathaniel and Anders are both easy enough to find, but my plan to head for the Wending Wood is derailed when a sergeant informs me there may still be darkspawn in the Vigil. She explains how the darkspawn may have been trapped in the lower levels of the fortress' basement. If she's right, this is a tad more important than bandits attacking caravans. We head down into the basement of the building she shows us.

"Whoa!" Sigrun slaps one hand against the wall to keep her balance as Fade tears past, nearly knocking both her and Anders over.

"Hey, where're you goin'?" I holler after the mabari, but he doesn't even slow down. "Stupid dog." I kick the wall. "You alright, Sigrun?"

She nods. "He just startled me, that's all. No harm done."

"Speak for y'self," Anders mutters with a wince. "That mangy beast scared Ser Pounce-a-lot half to death."

"He's not mangy!" I protest, biting back a laugh when I realize what I just said. _Oh, Andraste, did I really just..._

"Fine, Rahna,_ your _mabari scared _my_ cat half to death," he amends, reaching back to peel the terrified cat off his shoulder. "Maker, he has sharp claws..."

I exchange an amused look with Nathaniel, both of us trying not to laugh. "Oh, stop moaning about it and heal yourself," I tease, striding past him and Sigrun to see where my sodding dog went.

Straight into a trio of hurlock alphas, complete with battleaxes.

"Commander!" Sigrun charges past me, her axe sliding through the narrow slice of exposed flesh on the back of one hurlock's knees. It roars with pain and swings at her, effectively distracted, and leaving only two alphas and the emissary I just noticed in the corner for the rest of us. Anders takes care of the emissary with that mana clash spell of his, and he and Nathaniel turn their attention to one of the other two alphas.

I duck under the last one's axe and take advantage of how wide open it leaves itself with the wild swing. My swords easily pierce the shoddy breastplate it's wearing, and the hurlock stumbles backwards. It heaves back to swing at me again, and I roll out of the way, Sigrun and I deftly trading places and targets, which leaves the darkspawn momentarily confused.

That moment is all we need to finish them off, their bodies hitting the ground just after the half frozen, arrow-riddled corpse of the third one.

"Well," I pant, wiping ichor off my swords. "That was fun."

"You have a disturbing definition of fun," Anders mutters, summoning a healing spell for the gash across the back of Sigrun's hand.

"No, it would be disturbing if my definition of fun was, say, torturing kittens," I correct him. Pounce hisses at me. "It was just an example, you dumb cat."

"Hey, if Fade's not mangy, Ser Pounce-a-lot's not dumb."

I sigh. "Fine. It was still just an example, and I would never actually _do_ that."

Something rather feral sounding rumbles in the back of the cat's throat.

"Cross m' heart and hope to die." _Can't believe I'm defending myself to a bloody cat._

"_**Any**__way_," Sigrun clears her throat rather pointedly, grinning ear to ear. "Where to next, Commander?"

"I have a feeling straight forward, but I want to check the side rooms first," I reply. This proves to be a whole new kind of fun, as a small group of shrieks are waiting in one of said side rooms. They are, however, dumb enough to attack as a group, all lined up nicely for Anders to freeze them all with an ice spell. Shattering them is easy enough we hardly break a sweat. After checking the room over for anything valuable, we keep going. The chamber we enter is about the size of a banquet hall, and the only darkspawn in here are dead. Fade is at the far end.

"There you are! What were you thin-" As I cross the room to reprimand the dog, I recognize what he's standing next to. It's another mabari, a female, huddled on the floor, shivering with fear. "Oh. That's what you were doing. You could smell her, couldn't you, boy?"

He gives a small whine that sounds almost apologetic and noses the injured female gently.

"What's wrong, honey?" I murmur, running my hand over her head. She lets out a pitiful whine as she lifts her head and looks at me with sad, hurt brown eyes. "It's alright..." I scratch between her ears. Her stubby tail thumps the floor and she licks my hand. That's when I notice the small scroll tied to her collar. "What's this?"

"What's what?" Sigrun edges forward, kneeling next to me as I unroll the parchment.

I read the short note aloud. "'The darkspawn have overrun the Vigil. There is nowhere else to go, so I am taking refuge in these tunnels under the Keep.' It's signed by a woman named Adria."

"Adria?" Nathaniel repeats the name, concern flickering in his eyes. "She was... she was like a mother to me. We need to find her."

"We will," I promise. I can tell this is incredibly important to him; you don't get that worried over just anyone. "But without knowing how long she's been down here..." I sigh and rub the back of my neck. "Don't get your hopes too high."

"I understand, Commander." He nods, the worried look intensifying in his light blue eyes.

"We need to keep moving, anyway." I push to my feet, rubbing Fade's head. "C'mon, boy."

He looks up at me and very deliberately sits down next to the female mabari.

"Don't think he's going anywhere, Rahna," Anders chuckles. "He wants to stay with his new lady friend."

I crack a smile. "Can't really blame him; far as mabari go, she's a good-looking gonna keep her safe, boy?" I ruffle his ears.

He gives a single happy bark in response.

"Alright, then. You do that. We shouldn't be too long." I give his ears a final scratch before we press on.

As Anders walks past the two dogs, Pounce lets out a loud _meow_ and hops off the mage's shoulder and onto Fade's head, using him as a stepping stone to reach the female mabari, and promptly curls up between her shoulderblades.

"You too?" Anders mutters. Pounce just blinks at him twice and twitches his tail. "Oh, fine, fine." The mage sighs. "Let's go."

The next room down the winding hallway is a prison, full of ghouls. There are enough of them the fight is just a whirlwind of shouts and blood and steel and magic. We search for anything valuable, Nathaniel picking open the lock on a steel-bound chest in the corner as I attempt to bypass the one on the door set in the wall. It finally yields, and I find myself staring down a flight of stairs into a crypt. _Creepy..._ _I suppose we should check it to be safe._

There are no darkspawn, just reanimated skeletons. Fighting them always leaves me feeling _unclean, _and I catch myself scrubbing at my arms as I check through the place for anything valuable. A sack in the middle of the room holds the only things worth taking; a few health potions, a flask of lyrium, an old key, and an unstrung bow. _Wonder if Nathaniel could use this? I'll ask him later._ All of it goes in my pack before we head up the stairs and continue down the hallway.

It isn't too much farther before the hallway decays into a tunnel, support beams and finished stone floors disappearing into the chaos of rubble. We haven't gone far when the narrow tunnel widens slightly, then bottlenecks, and finally opens into a bigger room, one end cluttered with fallen stone, and the rest of the space occupied by more ghouls, all clad in rags except one. Tangled brown hair and a pink silk dress swirl around what used to be a woman.

_Oh, Andraste's bloody pyre, no..._ If the sinking feeling in my gut is any indication, I think we found Adria.

"No..." Nathaniel's voice is so quiet I can hardly hear him. "No, Adria..." He swallows hard. "We have to help her. There must be some way... Adria?"

Sigrun shakes her head, rests one hand on his arm. "We _can't_ help her, Nathaniel. She's gone," she says softly.

The ghoul notices us, her face twisting in a shriek of rage as she charges forward. The light burning in her eyes speaks of an inhuman want to _kill_.

I sigh, wince, and pull out my swords. _I'm not making him kill her... The man can't seem to catch a break; I'm not adding this to the list._ Topsider's Honor is buried in the ghoul's chest by the time the thought is fully formed, my other sword slicing across her neck. _I'm sorry it had to be this way..._ I know I warned him, I know this isn't _my_ fault, but as I turn to help with the remaining crowd of ghouls that followed Adria, I can't help feeling responsible. _Old habits die hard._

The unarmored and tainted-crazed men go down easily enough, even with Nathaniel shaken enough he actually _misses_ what should have been a relatively easy shot. I feel one eyebrow rise as I dispatch the ghoul. _There's no way he'd normally have missed that._ After the whole group goes down, I set Anders and Sigrun to checking for anything of any value while Nathaniel and I investigate the room behind the ghouls. "You alright?"

He nods. "I... I think so."

_I don't believe you. _"Do... you want to talk about it?" Maker knows I've lost people I care about before, though never like _that_.

"I..." he sighs. "I'd rather not, at the moment, Commander."

"That's fine." I rub the back of my neck. "If that changes, I'm always willing to listen."

He nods. "Thanks for the offer."

Voldrik and the sergeant from outside-Maverlies-make their way down the tunnel as Anders and Sigrun rejoin us. Voldrik is convinced the tumbled pile of rocks at one end of the cave-like room is blocking a tunnel to the Deep Roads, and won't last long if the darkspawn try to break through. He calms the sergeant's outburst at this bit of news with a promise we can find a point to block off, once this rubble is out of the way.

"Let me know when you finish," I request, running my hand over one of the rocks.

"Of course, Commander," he agrees with a nod. "Now, you all get going and let us work. Oh, Commander?" the dwarf calls as we start to leave.

"Yes, Voldrik?"

"Keep your eyes open for good, dark granite in your travels. The stone in these parts isn't worth nug spit."

"Of course." I chuckle as I lead the way out of the basement. Fade looks happy to see me when we reach the room where the animals are waiting, and Pounce's greeting for Anders is about the most affectionate I've ever seen from a cat. The female mabari seems to be doing better, standing and wagging her tail when I ruffle her ears.

"Come on, girl." I motion for her to follow us as we leave the basement.

She whines and looks back down the passage we just abandoned.

"She's not coming, girl," Nathaniel says quietly, which earns another plaintive whine. But the mabari follows us as we leave, falling in step just behind Nathaniel and next to Fade.

_I'd lay a couple sovereigns I know who she's gonna imprint on..._ I hope I'm right. Partially because a mabari won't imprint on just anyone, so if she _were_ to imprint on him, it would be more proof I'm not insane to trust Nathaniel.

For now, however, it's time to get out of this basement and head for the Wending Woods.

_A/N: So, obviously, played around a little with the It Comes From Beneath quest, which I purposely saved for now so A)Rahna could vent her frustration about politcs, and B)to have Sigrun, because I only just mixed things up and saved this quest 'til after I had her(don't remember why) recently, and I really like the extra line she has with Nathaniel(who, by the way, I wish to hug extra lots after writing this chapter). And that poor female mabari shall be receiving a name and a decent role in events to come. =)_

_Just a heads up; I may start making the chapters longer. I've had a couple five page ones recently, and I'm still only through one major quest line by chapter 22. And I didn't even fit everything I wanted in this chapter. Oy. So, yeah, just wanted to let you know 'bout that._


	24. Questions, Questions

24. Questions, Questions

Once again, however, the Maker sees fit to play around with my to-do list. There are times I'd swear His favorite form of amusement is to see how many different directions I can be pulled before I go crazy. I'm going to start consulting Him before I do anything, just to make sure I have the time.

Thanks to a chance encounter with the elven groundskeeper, Samuel, who Nathaniel recognizes, we now need to visit Amaranthine. Apparently the sister Nathaniel thought was dead _isn't_, but married a storekeeper in the city. He says there's no hurry; we can look next time we're there, but I see the look in his eyes and am determined not to make him wait _too_ long. Especially after what happened in the basement. The Wending Wood is coming first, but after that, we'll head for Amaranthine. I'll probably have a whole load of stuff to sell by that point, anyway.

The female mabari is in no shape to travel anywhere, of course, and Fade picks her over me-can't blame him; the poor dog has to be as tired of running around as I am-so I leave the two of them in the Vigil's courtyard, hand the private at the gate my letter to Jowan, and lead the way down the road toward the woods.

**oOo**

The journey to the woods is rather uneventful; no bandits, no werewolves, no darkspawn, nothing. It makes me somewhat suspicious, especially when things go deathly silent as we get closer to the woods. Normally there would be birds singing, the sound of critters like chipmunks rustling through the grass and dead leaves coating the ground, but there's not. Just silence, broken by a single, distant cry from some bird of prey.

Nathaniel and I trade glances. This lack of noise may be unnerving enough for Anders and Sigrun, but he and I know, this kind of silence usually means something has scared off the creatures who would be responsible for the background noise one expects in the woods.

"It's never this quiet here," the archer murmurs. "Something's not right..."

"I know," I mutter back, hands itching to reach for my swords, but there's nothing to fight at the moment. "It makes me wonder what's going on, what we're gonna find."

I get my answer soon enough: bandits, sylvans, and plenty of both.

_Andraste's eyes, do I miss Fade right about now_... I gripe to myself as we run into another group of bandits. The thought's no sooner finished forming in my head then I hear Nathaniel sigh and mutter under his breath as he lines up a shot, and a few seconds later a huge wolf comes charging out of the woods and knocks the bandit trying to flank Sigrun to the ground. The man _shrieks_, but not for long.

_Oh, yeah... I almost forgot about that._ I want to smack myself for that oversight, but settle for finishing off the thug leader menacing me with his mismatched daggers. Satisfied there are no enemies close enough to be a danger for the few seconds I'll need, I close my eyes, focus, and summon a wolf of my own. I barely get the last syllables out before one of the bandits breaks free of the ice spell Anders had conjured up and heads right for me.

I let out a yelp and dodge to the side, both to get out of _her_ way, and to avoid the second wolf, lighter grey and shaggier than the one Nathaniel called, that barrels past me and rams into said bandit with a sound halfway between a smack and a crunch.

"You alright, Rahna?" Anders hollers, his staff flashing with some ice spell or other.

"Just fine!" I yell back, already turning to deal with the last bandit of this group. Sigrun beats me to him, her axe making short work of the wiry man. "Nice work."

The dwarf grins at me. "Thanks, Commander."

"Come on, these bandits all look like scavengers so far; they're just picking over the results of someone else's handiwork. We need to find out _whose_."

**oOo**

"Out of my way! _She_ is after me!" The scavenger tearing down the path is terrified nearly out of his mind, tripping, scrambling up, running from_ something_.

I grab his arm. "Who's after you?"

"_She_ is! The elf! She- She makes the trees come alive! We just wanted easy money from the caravans-" His head jerks up at a nearby rustle. "Maker help me." He swallows hard and wrenches free of my grasp, backing away with a panicked light in his eyes. "She's here... gotta get away." He flees, just as a huge knot of what looks like roots appear atop a nearby precipice and sink away to reveal a blonde elf with Dalish tattoos and a deep scowl.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" she demands, folding her arms across her chest. "Are you working for the shems?"

"What did you do to that man?" I holler back. "He's terrified."

She smirks. "I talked to him. That's all. These caravans belong to the forest now. He wanted to take that which was not his."

"So _you've_ been destroying the caravans?" I narrow my eyes at her.

"The merchants started it!" she protests. "They kidnapped my sister, and likely sold her to slavers! They've brought this on themselves, just as you have!"

_I... don't like the sound of that... _My fingers twitch, and I hear Nathaniel and Sigrun's armor squeak as they shift uneasily, but I really don't want to start something with her unless I have to. From the look of her, she's a mage-has to be, with that little trick she pulled-and they're a pain to fight.

"Consider this a warning," the elf finishes, aiming both a scolding finger and that scowl of hers at me for a long moment before flicking her hands in a motion which apparently controls the roots, because they reappear and engulf her.

Just like that, she's gone.

Anders and Sigrun both mutter curses to themselves. I'm sure all of them are thinking it, but Anders is the one who asks, "So, what now?"

"Now we keep going. Cautiously," I reply, sparing a sideways glance at the bored wolf sitting next to me. "We have to get to the bottom of this."

**oOo**

There are more bandits and more sylvan-these fire-blackened and harder to bring down-past the cliff where the elf stood. After defeating them, I investigate the nearby ruins.

Well, try to. The lock on the mouldering door is too difficult to pick, and the door is solid enough it won't give in to any attempts to break it down. "Ah, forget it," I mutter, giving the wood a parting kick.

Anders chuckles. "Too much for you, Rahna?"

"Oh, shut up." I lightly punch his arm. "Don't make me hurt you." We head further into the woods, but haven't made much progress before a familiar vertigo ripples through me, just as my wolf whimpers, looking for all the world like she wants to bolt. "Oh, flames."

"What?" Sigrun asks.

"Darkspawn." I concentrate on the chittering that echoes in my skull, trying to figure out what's waiting for us. And immediately wish I hadn't. "Bloody _Maker_..." I sigh. "Sharlocks."

"Huh?" Anders and Nathaniel both shoot me confused looks, but Sigrun's eyes widen in recognition of the name.

"Sweet Ancestors," she mutters, reaching for her weapons. Both axe and sword are firmly in her grasp by the time the first shrieks appear.

"Andraste's knickerweasels!" Anders hollers, hastily casting a mind blast spell that washes over the three darkspawn coming after him and Nathaniel. The two wolves divide one shriek between them, leaving two each for me and Sigrun.

I'm consequently too busy fighting for my life to notice or sense the hurlock emissary who joins the fight until a pulsing red glyph materalizes under Nathaniel's feet. _Oh, sod... I know that spell_. Morrigan got an almost fiendish level of enjoyment out of using it as often as possible. _Oh, you did __**not**__! _"_Anders_!" I know a normal healing spell won't help at all, but there has to be something he can do. The mage flings a fireball towards the laughing hurlock. "I'll take care of it, Anders!" I yell, mentally adding, _You just make sure Nathaniel doesn't __**die,**_ as I change targets from the wounded shriek in front of me to the emissary. My wolf can handle the shriek.

"Whaddya want me to do? I'm not a miracle worker, Rahna!" he protests, a crushing wall of magic enveloping one of the remaining shrieks.

"I don't know, just... _**something**_!" I shout, burying my swords in the emissary's chest. "You so need to die," I mutter, giving one blade an extra twist before I yank them out and spit venomously on the hurlock's corpse.

When I turn back around, Sigrun is shoving the last shriek's carcass off her sword, the two wolves are standing rather triumphantly over another darkspawn corpse, and a shimmering green lifeward has joined the the red glyph the emissary cast on Nathaniel. I look over at Anders, who shrugs.

"Best I could do, Rahna," he mutters.

"I _can_ hear you, you know," Nathaniel points out, a wince flashing across his face as the red glyph pulses again.

"Sorry." I lean against the splintering rail post beside the path and rub the back of my neck sheepishly. "I have this habit of leaving people out of the loop if I get worried." He and I both sigh in relief when the glyph finally flickers and fades away. The lifeward Anders cast is still glowing, and I wait until it fades as well before suggesting, "Let's keep moving. I want to make a bit more progress before it gets dark." I don't add how much it bothers me that there are darkspawn here, but I'm pretty sure the three of them can guess.

"Wait, we're going to camp here? With- With the darkspawn, and the ferocious animals?" Anders looks less than thrilled with this plan.

"We have to. Maker's breath, Anders, how did you manage to escape the tower seven times and yet still be afraid of nature?" I tease as I push off the fence and start down the path.

He mutters something I don't catch, which makes my grin spread even wider.

"Eh, don't worry. I'll protect you," I promise, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Rah-_na_!" He rolls his eyes and yanks on one of my pigtails.

"Hey!" I yelp, swatting at his hand and missing. "What did I say about the hair?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he ripostes, tone pure innocence in decided contradiction to the look in his eyes. "Those blasted darkspawn must've scared me badly enough I forgot."

I sigh, bury my face in my hands, and then whirl around to glare at Nathaniel and Sigrun, the former doing a poor job hiding his smile and the latter not even _trying_ to hide her laughter. "Come on, you two." _Sodding mage comedian..._

**oOo**

There are more darkspawn and more sylvans to fight as we make our way through the woods, as well as a few packs of wolves, but all of this pales in comparison to the twist things take when we discover the man dying of darkspawn corruption in a ramshackle lean-to and learn something incredibly worrisome.

The darkspawn stole the humans' weapons, planted them at the Dalish campsite to make the elf think the humans were responsible. This raises even more questions than the battling darkspawn in Kal'Hirol.

_I... what? Darkspawn can't __**think**__, can't __**plot**__. This is... Maker, what's going on here?_ The man is so confused, he can't tell me much more, even as I press him for answers. I feel sorry for him; his mind is more than half gone to the taint and it's only going to get worse. So when he begs me to "make an end", I readily agree.

The group of darkspawn that approach as I reach down to close the man's eyes are laughing, the breath chuffing through wickedly sharp teeth.

But not for long. The emissary is the first to go; the pale blue light of a mana clash spell claiming it before it has a chance to cast a single spell of its own. The alpha and various genlocks don't last much longer.

"We don't have time to look for that elf right now," I mutter, cleaning off my swords and eying the reddish-pink and gold streaks filling the sky. "Maker, do we even really have time to find a good spot to camp?"

"We'd better," Anders grumbles. "If I'm sleeping in the bloody woods, it's not going to be anywhere near all _this_." He gestured at the corpses littering the ground.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Sigrun teases him. "You get used to the smell of rotting darkspawn eventually."

Anders makes a gagging noise. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Serious as death." She grins. "'Course, it takes a while for some people to adjust."

He shoots me a look that just screams _Help me!_, which makes me giggle as I intervene. "Of course we're going to find somewhere away from here. Rotting flesh is not what I want to be smelling while trying to sleep. Or, more importantly, _eat_."

"_Thank_ you," Anders breathes fervently. "I think I saw a good spot over here..."

**oOo**

As it turns out, he did find a perfectly acceptable campsite just far enough away from the corpses we won't have to worry about smelling them. Considering we're in the middle of a forest, I don't think a fire would be a good idea. Besides, we don't know what's out there, and it's a nice enough night we can manage without one.

Pounce slinks out and perches on Anders' knee as we eat, managing-as only a cat can-to look _regal_ as he licks one paw and rubs it over his head.

"Y'know you really should let him out more," Sigrun comments, resting her chin on her hand as she watches the cat. "It must get awful stuffy in there."

Anders shoots her a look. "You mean out to play with the darkspawn? Such a _great_ idea."

I nearly choke on my food at that. "He has a point, Sigrun."

"True," she chuckles. "Still, the poor cat must get tired of being in there."

"I just don't want anything to happen to him." Anders scratches between Pounce's ears. "That's all."

"You _are_ awfully attached to that cat, Anders," Nathaniel mutters.

"Well, actually, it's more like he's attached to me," Anders retorts with a grin as said cat finishes cleaning his face and climbs up on the mage's shoulder. "Isn't that right, Ser Pounce-a-lot?"

Sigrun and I each slap a hand over our mouths to keep from laughing at the baby-talk voice as Pounce rubs his head against Anders' cheek with a _mraow_ of feline contentment.

Nathaniel just sighs. "Isn't that name a little... ridiculous?"

Anders rolls his eyes. "Well, what am I _supposed _to call him, then? Frederick?"

"There are worse names, I suppose," Nathaniel concedes with another exasperated sigh as Sigrun and I lose our struggle with the giggles at the same moment and bust out laughing.

"Alright, alright. Who's first watch tonight?" I ask when I finally catch my breath. "I can't remember."

"You are," Anders and Sigrun inform me in chorus.

"Oh. Right. Well, then, you three get to sleep. Hopefully we can track that elf down in the morning." I make myself comfortable-relatively speaking-on a fallen log as the three of them settle in.

I have a lot think about.

_A/N: Oh, Maker, I had so. much. __**fun**__ writing this chapter. *giggle* Seriously, all the bantering between Anders and various people... So fun. And I guess it's a bad sign that I knew both of those banters I worked in at the end by heart. I play too much Dragon Age. xD I double-checked, of course, before editing for the sake of flow, but I remembered them word for word. Scary._

_Also, I now feel obligated to find a way to make it up to Nathaniel that he ended up with the Curse of Mortality. Darn coin tosses. Oh, well, had to be __**somebody**__..._


	25. In Search of Answers

25. In Search of Answers

"Rahna."

_'M tired; let me sleep..._ The world can wait a few more minutes, can't it?

"_Rahna._"

_Don't wanna get up..._ Though I am realizing the ground is uncomfortably hard.

"C'mon, Rahna, you need to _wake __**up**_!"

_Is this some kind of payback for all the times I had to harrass Jowan awake?_ I wonder sleepily as I try to force myself awake.

"He may have done something to her..."

"You mean aside from that damned sleep spell glyph that caught us in the first place?" Anders sounds more than a little annoyed. "Brilliant plan, by the way, _milady_. Investigating the ruins. 'S a good thing we left Sigrun outside."

There a sigh of exasperation before a female voice retorts, "I wasn't the one who plunged in and threw caution to the wind, was I? You have your fearless leader to thank for _that_."

"Hey, how was Rahna supposed to know there'd be something so close to the entrance?"

"Most people _expect_ traps near doors," the female voice snipes back.

I groan and pry my eyes open. "You two are givin' me a headache," I grouse, memory flooding back as I sit up.

We found the elf. Or, rather, she found us, brought two trees to life to attack us and fled to the abandoned Dalish camp. After dealing with the sylvans, we followed her, and I managed to convince her the darkspawn had planted the humans' weapons. The elf-Velanna, I think-said she'd seen them near the mines we passed after we first saw her. Between thinking a smaller group would be less likely to be caught-which didn't work so well- and not wanting everyone down here in case something went wrong, Sigrun volunteered to wait at the entrance with the wolves.

The rest of us went in, and were pretty much immediately caught by a darkspawn emissary. Who could talk. Well, at least, I think it's an emissary. It was different from any other darkspawn I've ever seen. After that point, everything's a bit fuzzy, but I remember said emissary standing over me, doing something...

...And then nothing until this. Cold stone floor, iron bars, a headache, double vision, and two bickering mages. Who stop bickering as I sit up.

"Rahna, you alright?"

I blink until the double vision fades before answering. "Think so, aside from this headache," I mumble, pressing the heel of my hand against my forehead. "Where's N'thaniel?"

"Right here, Commander." He's standing back near the corner of the cell, examining the bars.

"All of you okay?" I push off the floor, try to stand. Not such a good idea. My headache flares, nausea twisting my stomach at the change in equilibrium, and I nearly fall over. Anders grabs my arm.

"We're fine," he promises. "Are you sure_ you _are?"

"I told you; it's jus' this sodding headache," I mumble, clinging to him for support as I wait for the world to stop rocking back and forth.

"Can't have _that_," he teases, gently nudging my hand away from my head and resting his free hand against my forehead. "Hold still."

"Anders-" I stop what I was about to say as the cool healing magic floods through me. "Mmm... Maker's breath, that feels sodding _wonderful_." I sigh with relief, shooting him a grateful smile when he finishes. "Thank you."

"Well, you're the brains here, Rahna. Can't have you unable to scheme up a way out of this cell," he teases, letting go of my arm.

"True. What _would _you do without me?" I tease right back. That's when I notice. "Where's my armor?" I'm wearing a rough _dress_, of all things, ragged brown sleeves clumsily rolled up to about my elbows. All of the others are missing their gear as well, clad in regular clothing, but I'm currently on the verge of panicking over a certain missing necklace that's not hanging around my neck any more, and don't particularly _care_. _Not that necklace... Maker, please, don't let me lose that._

"The darkspawn took it," Velanna chips in, arms crossed over her chest and irritated scowl aimed at me. "All of it. But I'm sure you can come up with a plan to get it all back and escape, can't you, Warden?"

I bite my tongue to keep from spewing an equally venemous retort at her. _She's not worth it._

"Taking out your anger on the Commander is not going to help, Velanna," Nathaniel informs her.

"I-" she starts to retort, but whatever she was going to say dies in her throat as she suddenly dashes toward the bars of the cell. "Seranni! Oh, Creators, what have they done to you?"

I whirl to look, blinking in surprise at the appearance of the ash blonde elf outside our cell. _Maker, where'd __**she**__ come from? _This must be the sister Velanna was so incensed about losing. Clearly, she wasn't taken by the merchants.

"I'm fine, Velanna," Seranni soothes. I'd say she's lying; her skin is mottled with the darkspawn corruption and her eyes have started going milky, but she doesn't sound like she's in pain. "They haven't done anything to me. It's not me he wants." She glances nervously over her shoulder. "I have to get you out before something bad happens. I don't want anyone else to be hurt."

_Bad? How bad are we talking? What does this darkspawn want from us? And who's been hurt?_ There are so many questions fighting for dominance in my mind, I can't decide which to ask first.

"Yes, alright," Velanna sighs, her tone pitched high with worry and irritation both. "Get us out and I'll take you home."

Seranni steps closer to the bars. "The darkspawn have your things," she whispers. "You can get it all back if you're careful and clever." There's a faint scrape of a key in a lock from across the room, and she darts another look over her shoulder. "They're going to come back to check on you! You have to hurry!"

"Wait! You must know _something_! What's going on?" I demand.

"I don't know anything!" she protests, taking a step back. "But take this key." She presses the small metallic object into her sister's hand. "It- It opens a chest in the emissary's room. Maybe you can find some answers there."

"What in it?" I press, taking the key from Velanna before she has a chance to protest.

"I... don't know," Seranni shrugs helplessly. "But they're coming! You have to _go_, find a way out of the mines. _Please_!" As the sound of tumblers clanking over in the far corner echoes across the room, Seranni gives Velanna a last, pleading look and darts off.

"I can't just leave you here! Seranni, _**wait**_!" Velanna cries as her sister disappears out another door.

"Nothing we can do for her now, Velanna," I mutter as I shove open the cell door, which Seranni unlocked before fleeing. "Right now we need to worry about _us_, but I promise we'll look for her." She looks like she's about to protest, but I'm already moving toward the trio of darkspawn who entered the dungeon. A fireball flies past me just before I reach the first hurlock, the heat from its explosion upon impact making me wince. "Watch it!" I yelp, ducking to the side as the surviving hurlock takes a swing at me. It freezes solid and then shatters as Anders and Velanna actually manage to work together, and I dodge around behind the genlock and wrench its head viciously to the side.

Two more hurlocks rush into the room before I even have a chance to relax, sending me scrambling out of the way. They're too tall; I can't really do anything to them.

_Rahna, you idiot, take the genlock's dagger!_ I snatch up the rough, crude blade. By the time my attention is back on the pair of hurlocks, however, there's only one left. Nathaniel dealt with the other one the same way I did the genlock. The remaining hurlock doesn't really stand a chance. After making sure there's not a third group lurking around the corner or anything, I kneel next to the genlock, tugging off its armor. My nose wrinkles at the smell, and the condition of the leather, but I'm not in a position to be picky right now.

"Maker's breath, Rahna, what're you doing?" Anders demands when he sees me pulling at the darkspawn's gear.

"I need armor, and there's no way the hurlocks' will fit me," I shoot back, helping myself to the wicked-looking sword the creature carried as well.

"You're going to _wear_ that?" Velanna sounds like she's about to be sick. "Truly?"

"Y'know the saying about how beggars can't be choosers? Kinda applies here," I point out as I pull on the ill-fitting armor. The genlock really is too short, but at least this sort of works. Unfortunately-or not, depending on how you look at it-none of the hurlocks' armor is salvagable anyway, so Nathaniel's still stuck with no armor. "C'mon, let's see what in here. There may be something to help figure out what's going on."

**oOo**

Rather than clarify things, all we find in the laboratory-like chamber is more questions. The emissary is doing something, what I can't tell. The only notes I find are nearly indecipherable fragments.

_What happens if the Old Gods die? Does the song perish with them?_

_The blood is the key. The blood is always the key._

_Perhaps I should have killed it while it slept._

"Sweet bloody Maker, what's going one here?" I mutter. "Who wrote these?"

"What, you're asking me?" Anders shrugs helplessly when he catches me looking at him. "I'm as clueless as you are, Rahna."

I sigh. "I know. I just figured, since you're a mage, you might have a better guess than I could come up with."

He scoffs. "Huh. I have the same facts as you do. That emissary is doing something using blood, _our_ blood, I think, and relating to the Old Gods. That alone is making me nervous, to be honest."

"Oh, me too," I murmur in agreement, memory of the archdemon all too fresh in my mind as I absently rub the scar on my face. "_Mine. You're mine." _The grating, seven month old echo lingers still, and I give an involuntary shudder.

"You alright?" Anders asks.

"Mmhm." I nod, forcing a smile. "Just... remembering something, that's all."

"Ah."

"Commander, I think you should see this," Nathaniel calls from across the room.

"What is it?" The pair of levers sit on the edge of a sheer drop of at least twenty feet down to a much lower floor, the space filled with noxious-looking green_ haze_.

"I'm not sure. But there's something down there. See?" The archer points into the depths of the mist.

After a minute, I can make out a rough, dark shadow on the floor. "Hmm... I'll bet these have something to do with that..." I mutter, giving one of the levers a cautious yank. "Anders, you and Velanna go see if you can find anything else useful in all that mess on the tables while we try to figure this out."

It takes a few minutes of trial and error, but Nathaniel and I eventually hit on the right order and the poisonous mist clears. "Now... how do we get down there?" There are no stairs down from where we stand, but I notice a door in the wall of the lower section. "Ah. We probably have to go back through the dungeon. You two almost done?" I ask over my shoulder.

"No almost about it, Rahna," Anders replies. "We're done. There wasn't really anything else there."

"Eh, it was worth a look," I shrug. "Come on. I want to see what's in that chest, and then we're getting out of here." I nearly cheer with delight when the chest-which isn't even locked-turns out to contain not only one of _the_ best sets of black leather armor I've seen in my life, but also a bow, string coiled neatly next to it. "S'all yours," I grin at Nathaniel.

"You sure, Commander?"

"'Course I'm sure. That armor's sized for a _human_. I'd look pretty silly tryin' to wear it," I point out. "And you're the only one who'd use a bow."

"True," he concedes. "Thank you."

**oOo**

We've barely left the dungeon area when we run into one of those darkpawn Seranni mentioned had our gear. Velanna lets out a growl of rage at the sight of the bent, grey skinned figure, barely recognizable as female.

"That... ghoul has my things!" she seethes. "She has it all! I'm going to get it back." Fire crackles around the blonde elf's hands. "Are you with me?"

In answer, I draw my borrowed blades, Nathaniel nocks an arrow, and Anders sends a stonefist flying toward the ghoul. A few dragonlings scurry through a hole in the ruined wall, no doubt alerted by sound of combat. We finish them all off, and the rest of us set to scrounging up anything of any value as Velanna changes back into her robes, Nathaniel muttering about needing arrows. A scarce handful are still rattling in the rough darkspawn quiver he found, but they won't last long.

"Ugh, what _are_ you staring at?" I hear Velanna mutter behind me as I kick aside some rubble to see what underneath.

"Have I ever told you that I find tattoos on women _incredibly_ attractive?" I bite back a giggle at Anders' casual tone, ignoring the small twinge of... something in my chest.

"Have I ever told _you_ that I find most humans physically and morally repulsive?" Velanna shoots back, enough acid in her voice to eat through iron.

"Good to know, and yes, you may have mentioned it," he shrugs. "Can't blame a man for trying."

"Anders, this is hardly the time," I inform him, wordlessly handing Nathaniel the quiver of slightly worse-for-wear arrows I found under the rubble. "We need to keep moving."

"Aye, aye, _Commander_," he teases. "Lead the way."

So I do. After making a face at him when Nathaniel and Velanna aren't looking.

**oOo**

I wasn't expecting to find anything other than darkspawn down here. So when the muted vertigo that means another Warden rather than some tainted or twisted creature tugs at me I'm surprised, to say the least.

I'm even more surprised when the man we find is_ alive_, even if only just. His legs have been crushed, and his injuries are severe enough even Anders shakes his head in response to my questioning gaze.

"Are you... are you a Grey Warden?" he asks through gritted teeth, eyes full of the pain he's trying to hide.

I nod. "Yes. I was sent to command the garrison at Vigil's Keep. Are you one of the Orlesians who were stationed there? What's your name?"

"I...was, yes." He winces again. "Sweet Maker, it hurts..."

"What's your name?" I repeat.

"Name's... Keenan."

It suddenly feels very cold in here. _Oh, no..._

_A/N: Ah, Velanna's going to be such a joy to write. /sarcasm In all seriousness, though, she and Anders just up and started bickering in my head when I was figuring out how I wanted to start this chapter. I'm not going to make her any more or less bitchy than she comes across to me in the game. And since I always get her friendship up, her softer side may come out eventually. But until then, she and Rahna will butt heads on occassion. Fun, fun fun._


	26. Gearing Up

26. Gearing Up

I feel my heart sink as I look at the dying Warden. _Keenan... that's... Maker, this is Gabriel's best friend._ And I can't do a damn thing to help him. The sense of helplessness that envelops me makes me sick to my stomach. I take a deep breath. "Keenan, what happened?"

He shakes his head, teeth grinding as the pain intensifies. "I..I don't know, Commander. We'd... been there less than a week... when the darkspawn came. Ah!" His hand curls into a white-knuckled fist.

I can't stand this anymore, and turn to the mage behind me. "Anders, can't you do _something_? Even just ease the pain?"

"I can try, but no promises, Rahna." His hands glow blue, a light that brightens to just shy of unbearable in the dim cavern before drifting over Keenan's body. "That's the best I can do. It won't last long, though."

Keenan sighs in relief. "Thank you, all the same."

"Are there any others left alive?" I shift position on the rocky ground as a stone starts biting into my knee through the shoddy genlock armor.

He shakes his head. "I think I'm the only one left. The others are dead... or worse."

_You were too slow. Again. You're __**always**__ too slow._ "I'm sorry, Keenan. I arrived too late to help."

"There's... there's no sense in regret," Keenan replies quietly. "You have to escape. The darkspawn have some kind of plan for you, and it cannot be good. But, if I could ask a favor?"

"Of course." I can't get past the thought that this is Gabriel's best friend; the least I can do for the man is allow him to ask a favor.

"There is a darkspawn here, carrying a huge maul. He's the one who crushed my legs. He... He took my wedding ring. Please, Commander, slay him. Bring the ring to my wife, Nida, in Amaranthine. Tell her... tell her I died trying to make the world a better place."

"What an insipid line," Velanna scoffs under her breath.

Even if I agreed with her, she didn't need to say that in front of the man. "Velanna!" I glare at her before turning back to Keenan. "I'd rather bring you to your wife."

"No, I'd... ah! I'd only slow you down," he insists, sweat trickling down his face as his breathing gets more labored. "Please... do this for me. It is... all I ask."

"Then consider it done," I promise.

He sighs in relief. "Thank you, Commander." Those are the last words he speaks before his eyes flutter closed.

I want to curse, to cry, to kill something. _Just one more person I couldn't save..._

"Rahna?" Anders' tone is quiet, the hand he rests on my shoulder more of a comfort than he knows. "Don't we need to keep moving?"

I nod, forcing myelf to stand. "We do. C'mon." I leave the small cave without a backwards glance. _Farewell, Brother..._ "I need to kill something. Now."

"I think you'll soon get your wish, Commander." Nathaniel nods toward the passage ahead. "I can sense darkspawn ahead."

"Good," I mutter savagely. "Word of advice, when we find them: stay out of my sodding way."

**oOo**

Being that I'm the only melee fighter in the group, that warning proves to be very easy for them to heed. My first target in the group is the hunched, grey skinned ghoul in the middle of the room, wearing leather armor and wielding a longbow.

_Well, there's Nathaniel's stuff... what about me an' Anders?_ I wonder as I dodge an arrow. The ghoul may have Nathaniel's gear, but it has nowhere near his talent for archery. Considering the armor we found in that chest is better than his old set, I'm not terribly worried about leaving things undamaged. A fact that comes in handy as I bury the genlock's dagger in the ghoul's chest and drag it down, wrecking both the armor and the creature's insides. The dagger's blade seems wobbly as I yank it out and spin to face the hurlock alpha charging across the room. _That's not good... _A crackling string of lightning flies past me to wreath the alpha before Velanna turns her attention to the horde of genlocks that stream out from one of the tunnels.

I bury both sword and dagger in the alpha's neck, just as Anders sends a stonefist slamming into its chest. The sword wrenches free, and I nearly drop it, but the dagger snaps off. "Sod it," I mutter, snatching up the alpha's sword to replace my lost weapon. We make short work of the rest of the darkspawn, and Nathaniel reclaims his bow, checking it over for damage before shouldering it so he can relieve the ghoul of the rest of its arrows.

"Warden, did you see this?" Velanna is staring at the tunnel the genlocks entered through, lips curling in disgust.

"What?" I turn to see what she means, and feel a similar disgust curdle my stomach. The mutilated corpses of two men hang from the support beams, hands bound behind their back, eys gouged out, and clothes covered in blood. "Maker preserve us..."

"What... What did this?" Nathaniel asks. "The darkspawn?"

I nod. "They're monsters. Makes sense, doesn't it, that they _behave_ like monsters?"

"I suppose, but still..."

"I know," I murmur. Images from when we went back to Ostagar, what the darkspawn had done, flash through my mind.

**oOo**

_Corpses, pawed and eaten and mauled to the point of being barely recognizable as humans or elves. Hung on post as a mockery to the human king and his army._

_It makes me want to heave up the contents of my stomach. I clench my jaw tighter against the urge and turn my attention to killing the monsters responsible._

_"You alright, love?" Alistair looks like he's doing even worse than I am, but it's not __**my**__ half-brother's armor we've been finding divvied up between the darkspawn leaders._

_"I'm managing." I shove loose hair out of my face and wrinkle my nose at the permeating stench around us. "I just... Maker, I want to kill them all. And then shove it in Loghain's face."_

_"I know." His arm slides around my shoulders in a moment's comforting embrace. "Come on. The faster we finish killing them, the sooner we can leave this place."_

_"Sounds good to me," I reply with a shaky smile, turning back to the task at hand._

**oOo**

I shake my head to clear away the memories, which I don't want to be facing right now. "Come on, we need to find that darkspawn Keenan mentioned, and then get out of here." Nathaniel and Anders share a look that says they know I'm leaving something unsaid, but I don't care. They can know, as long as they don't ask about it. I lead the way through the tunnel. It's not long, and empties into a cavern full of dragonlings and genlocks.

And the last two ghouls, fully equipped in mine and Anders' things. Just the thought of that rotting, mindless _thing_ wearing my armor makes my skin crawl.

"Make sure whatever you do doesn't damage our stuff!" I holler at Anders, who looks mad enough to use something like a fireball to take them out. Even as the words leave my mouth, the ghoul wearing my armor stumbles and falls to the ground, an arrow buried in its eye almost up to the fletching. "Maker!" I whirl around.

Nathaniel shrugs and reaches back for another arrow. "Like that, Commander?"

I chuckle, once again fervently glad this man is on _my _side. "_Exactly_ like that."

"Little help?" Anders hollers, hastily summoning a mind blast as all three approaching dragonlings decide he looks like a tasty snack. I cast a glance toward the ghoul with his things as I oblige. The creature is writhing in a crushing cage of magic.

_That works..._ I take down one of the dragonlings, wince and surpress a cry of pain as one of the genlock archers gets me in the shoulder, and turn to deal with the trio of bow-wielding darkspawn. The wicked, curved darkspawn swords are good for something, at least. The serrated edges shred through the genlocks' armor faster than I expected, which is good. My arm is screaming at me, the muscles seizing up with the pain. All three archers fall before me, Velanna catching the last one with an ice spell just before I slit its throat. "Thanks," I pant, nodding at her.

"You're... You're welcome, Warden." Her gaze is more on the floor than my eyes as she mutters her reply.

"Now, for the love of Andraste, can someone _get this out_?" I hiss, the arrow in my shoulder claiming my full attention, now that all possible threats are gone.

"Let me see." Nathaniel's touch is gentle, but I still flinch. "Sorry, Commander."

"No, 's not you. It's just... sensitive," I assure him, bracing my good hand against his shoulder.

"I know."

"Speaking from experience?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but my teeth are clenched tight against the pain, so it doesn't really work.

"Mm-hm. So I know how much this is going to hurt." He holds my shoulder still with one hand and snaps off the arrow's head with the other.

"Sweet bloody _**Maker**_!" I yelp, my grip on his shoulder tightening as white-hot pain lances along the arrow shaft. I blink rapidly to hide the tears that spring to my eyes. "The last one didn't hurt like this," I grit out under my breath.

A wry half smile pulls at one side of Nathaniel's mouth. "The last one wasn't through your shoulder, Commander."

"I... ow! I see." I rest my head against his shoulder for a second, mentally trying to hurry Anders along in the whole 'reclaiming his gear' thing. This is going to need some serious healing, and I don't think Velanna's _that_ good. "Just... get it out. Please."

"As you wish." He wraps his hand around what of the arrow shaft is sticking out of my shoulder and pulls it out in one smooth motion.

I try not to cry out, or whimper, or-Maker forbid-_faint_, but, Andraste as my witness, that _**hurt**_. "_Owwww_!"

"There." Nathaniel tosses the snapped-off arrow shaft aside. "It just needs healing now, Commander."

"Thanks," I mumble. "Anders? You done yet?"

"Just about, yes." I can hear fabric rustling as he pulls on his robes.

"Hurry up. I could kinda use some help here." Blue dots dance around the edge of my vision even as I speak. _Oh, please don't let me faint..._ I gingerly shrug off the ruined genlock armor, biting back another whimper as the leather slides over my injured shoulder.

"Alright, alright. Let me see." He sucks in a sharp breath in sympathy when he sees the bloody mess that is my shoulder. "Maker's breath... Rahna, why is it always you?"

"Huh?" I look over at him, hand still braced against Nathaniel's shoulder so I don't topple.

"How come you're the only one who ever seems to get shot?" His hands start glowing with bluish-white light.

"Um... you and Nathaniel and Velanna get to stand back from the fighting more, and Oghren and Sigrun can both manage heavier armor than I can. So even if they got shot, the arrow would probably just bounce off. That's how come." I sigh in relief as the spell starts its work, knitting flesh back together until the pain has dulled into non-existence. "Thanks. Both of you."

"You're welcome, Commander." Nathaniel nods before turning his attention to the cavern in which we stand, trying to figure the best way to go.

"Not a problem, Rahna," Anders grins as he fixes his lopsided and rather loose ponytail. "That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"

"Along with your marvelous sense of humor and because I have to have _someone_ to pick on," I tease, kneeling to start divesting the ghoul of my things. I get a closer look at the arrow through its eye as I do so, and can't help but stare and mutter under my breath when I notice the shaft is almost dead center through the pupil. _Maker's breath..._ That kind of accuracy, with as fast as Nathaniel whipped off that shot... Yeah, I'll be trying to stay on his good side, thank you very much.

"Need any help, Rahna?"

I shake my head in response to his inquiry. "No, Anders, I'll manage just fine." The last of the buckles seperates even as I speak, and I pull the leather armor into my lap, feeling around the thing's neck for something I desperately hope to find.

My heart flutters with relief as my fingers circle the familiar cords. _Thank Andraste._ Before I do anything else, the intertwined necklaces slip over my head, Warden's Oath and the crack riddled amulet clinking together softly as they bounce against my collarbone. "Anders?"

"Hmm?" He looks over at me expectantly.

"Turn around." I twirl one finger. "Please."

"Damn, you're on to me," he teases, even as he obliges and turns to stare at the wall.

I chuckle softly as I strip off the ragged dress, memories of a similar conversation with Alistair playing in my mind. "Very funny." I pull on the familiar armor, which seems none the worse for the wear, and start fastening buckles. The one high up under my right arm gives me trouble, and it takes almost five minutes of struggling, accompanied by muttered curses, to get it to buckle properly. "Alright, all done."

"Took you long enough," he jokes.

I make a face at him before turning to Nathaniel. "Which way?"

"I can sense more darkspawn that way," he replies, nodding toward the left of the two tunnels. "But the _stronger_ darkspawn is down the other tunnel."

"Whaddya mean, stronger?" I ask as I pluck my swords from the ghoul's hands.

"I mean, I can only sense one darkspawn in that direction, but it's stronger than the others."

"That's weird," I mutter. "We should probably check it out."

"So, wait, he tells you there's a stronger darkspawn down that way, and you _want_ to go see it?" Anders looks at me like he thinks I'm crazy.

"Part of being a Warden, chasing down the scarier darkspawn types. Besides, it may be the one Keenan was talking about."

"Mmm. Good point," he admits. "Can I ask you something, Rahna?"

"If we can walk and talk at the same time. I really wanna get out of here." I finish getting the last of my gear back from the ghoul and look toward the tunnel.

"I think I can manage that." He grins. "Lead the way."

I take the lead, Anders only a half step behind me. "So, what did you want to ask me?"

"Just curious why that Keenan fellow seems so important to you."

"Oh, he was Gabriel's best friend. Gabriel was another Warden from Weisshaupt," I explain before he can even ask. "He and I traveled together part of the way here. He stopped at Jader. But we still had plenty of time to talk, so I'd consider us friends."

"Just friends?" he asks.

"Miri'd be awful mad if it was anything more than that," I reply with a grin. "Why?"

Anders shrugs. "Just curious."

_Sure you were..._ "Uh-huh." I shoot a knowing look in his direction.

"And did you say Miri? As in, Miri Surana?"

"Yeeeahhh." I draw the word out, unsure where he's going with this.

"Short, skinny, dark skin, black hair, tattoos on her face?"

"Yep. You know her?"

He chuckles. "You could say that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I actually stop and look at him.

"We were pretty good friends until she turned fourteen. That's when she went all 'teacher's pet' and wouldn't help me cause trouble anymore. That's all."

"I see." I can sense the darkspawn Nathaniel was talking about ahead of us now, so I leave my reply at that and draw my swords. "Be ready."

Nathaniel already has an arrow nocked, but Anders and Velanna both reach for their staffs as we close the distance.

When we round the final curve of the tunnel between us and the darkspawn, I nearly curse at the full extent of our prediciment. Not only is there one of the biggest, nastiest looking hurlock alphas I've ever seen waiting in the cave, there's also a drake and several dragonlings.

_Maker, is it really too much to ask that things be __**simple**__ once in a while?_ I protest in my head as my grip tightens on the hilts of my swords. "Let's do this."

"Right behind you," Anders replies as the drake and the alpha notice us and charge forward.

A lightning bolt flashes past me as I bring up my swords and run to meet them. _Here we go again..._

_A/N: I've always wished there was a way to save Keenan. Especially if you were an Orlesian Warden, but even with my imports. I don't know why. Also, Rahna and Anders are ridiculously fun to write together. I know I say that a lot, but it's as true now as it was the first time I said it. And letting Nathaniel be pretty darn awesome this chapter made me happy. =) Very sorry for sort of "forgeting" Velanna; I just couldn't think of any good way for her to contribute to most of the conversation. _


	27. A New Warden

27. A New Warden

I dodge under the hurlock's maul as it makes a wild swing at me. The drake ignores me and charges past, heading straight for Anders and Velanna. I hear the latter shriek in pain a few seconds later as the drake's wicked claws slash against her arm. The Dalish mage retaliates with an ice spell, dashing to the side while her attacker is still frozen.

"Rahna, move!" Anders hollers. I sidestep the alpha's next attempt to crush me flat, leaving the mage an opening as I do. He sends a stonefist hurtling into the alpha, and it staggers back.

While it's still recovering, I dart behind it and slash the backs of its knees. The hurlock lets out a bellow of rage and pain, but my attention is on the dragonlings. They'd ganged up on me while my attention was on the alpha, and now are grouped so close together it takes a single outward-arching sweep of my swords to kill all of them.

The hurlock growls, low and dangerous, as an arrow finds the exposed area around its neck, and searches for this new threat. But Nathaniel's already moving, cloaked in shadow, and the darkspawn's eyes find only empty space. So it refocuses on me.

_Good. Stay on me_, I urge mentally, dodging another blow from its huge hammer. That thing's too heavy for me to even try to block. While it's still off-balance from the miss, I lunge forward and drive one sword through a weak spot in the armor just under its arm. The hurlock falters, coughs blood, but still comes at me. "Little help?" I holler, hearing the drake give a final shriek as it falls. My reward for the split-second distraction is a heavily armored elbow flying at my head. I can't move fast enough to avoid it entirely, and I see stars as I collide with the wall. I can hear Anders yelling, but I'm too focused on not getting hit again to make out words.

Ice forms fast and solid on the alpha's armor, slowing its movement as it pulls back to swing again. Before it's even had time to freeze completely, the hurlock's head snaps sideways, an arrow sticking out from one eye-slit in its helmet. Joints stiff from the ice, it sways for a moment before collapsing in a heap.

"You alright, Rahna?" Anders offers me a hand up.

I take it and nod as he helps me stand. "Think so. Thanks."

The mage shrugs. "Was Howe's idea. I just helped."

_I wish you'd stop calling him that. _"Glad you managed to work together," I tease. "Not so suspicious anymore?"

"Rahna, I'm trying, honest," Anders protests, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know." Alistair had trouble trusting Zevran; I've seen this before. The difference being Nathaniel never _actually_ tried to kill me. But this trust thing is a problem to iron out when we're not still in some darkspawn's underground lair, surrounded by dead dragons. "Go make sure Velanna doesn't need any more healing. That drake got her pretty good."

"Sure thing." He moves off toward the elf, who scowls at him when he offers to help her before reluctantly holding out her still-bleeding arm.

_Rahna, time's wasting._ I tear my gaze off the two mages and kneel to start searching the alpha's corpse for Keenan's wedding ring. I made him a promise.

**oOo**

After retrieving Keenan's ring and searching the room for anything else useful, we're off down the other tunnel. It's time to get out of here. And all that stands between us and getting out of here is a roomful of darkspawn, including a necromancer, and another drake.

_I thought dragons preferred mountains_, I muse as I wince and backpedal away from the stream of fire it spits at me. _Why're are there so many in this underground cavern?_ When the flames die, I charge forward, grabbing the bony spur on the drake's shoulder and pulling myself onto its back. "Whoa!" My grip tightens when it rears up and slams down in an attempt to dislodge me. I take the opening provided afterward and bury one of my swords in the back of its neck, just below its head, and drag it down to where the neck joins the body. There's a weak, choking rasp, and it's dead.

The others have made short work of the necromancer and the other darkspawn, and the corpses the necromancer managed to raise died with it. The caverns abruptly tumble into a stone hallway as we move on. The architecture is the same as in the dungeon, but we've been traveling through rough-hewn tunnels for a while now, so this doesn't makes sense. All I care about is that one of the doors on this hallway leads us into the emissary's room that Seranni told us about. I pull out the key, look for the chest she mentioned. "Nathaniel, see if you can get that other chest open. Velanna, you and Anders go through the papers." The key fits perfectly into the lock of an ornately carved chest sitting near one wall of the small room. There's not much in it; a simple gold ring and a few lyrium potions. _So much for finding answers._

"Warden, look at this." Velanna holds up a letter from among the papers on the desk.

I scan it. The letter mentions someone giving blood and needing patience, but doesn't shed any light on any of the things we've seen. "What's going _on_ down here? This is more confusing than Kal'Hirol!" I toss the letter back down on the desk and turn away. Thinking of Kal'Hirol, however, reminds me of something the talking darkspawn there said, referring to an Architect. Maybe it meant this emissary. It's as good a theory as any.

The other chest turns out to only contain a mace, a spyglass, and a few pieces of quartz. I'm mildly puzzled by why someone would lock up _quartz_, but maybe it had some value to whoever did it.

"Sigrun might like the spyglass, Commander," Nathaniel comments. "She mentioned a fellow Legionnaire describing one to her the other day, and she seemed fascinated by the idea."

For some reason, the image of the chatty dwarf rambling away to the taciturn archer makes me giggle. _He's too polite to tell her to shut up even if she was getting on his nerves._ "Oh, really?"

"Yes."

"In that case, I guess we can hang on to it," I grin, spinning the shiny brass tube around my hand. "Right now, I'm most concerned with getting out of here, yeah?" My claustrophobia hasn't given me too much trouble-yet-but I don't want to keep pushing my luck in that regard.

"Well, we have to getting _close_ at least," Nathaniel assures me.

"What makes you say that?" I ask as we leave the Architect's room.

"We've been going uphill, ever so gradually, for a while now." He shrugs. "I don't think this mine ever went that deep to begin with, so it makes sense we would be nearing the surface."

"What would I do without you?" I mutter, raking loose wisps of hair back out of my eyes.

"I'm sure you'd manage somehow," he replies quietly, half smile pulling at one side of his mouth.

"Sure," I snort in disbelief. "Quite poorly."

"You don't give yourself nearly enough credit, Commander."

"Nope. Bad habit of mine. Multiple people have tried to make me stop, without success, so you'll just have to live with it," I grin. _If Alistair, Zevran, __**and**__ Jowan have all failed to break me of it, I don't see it happening anytime soon. Or ever, for that matter._

"I see. In other words, I shouldn't even try."

"It would be a waste of breath," I confirm cheerily.

"Very well then. I shall refrain."

"Was there an actual chuckle in there, Nathaniel Howe?" I pair my question with a cheeky grin as I reach for the handle of one of the doors at the end of the hallway.

Whether or not I imagined that one, there's_ definitely _a chuckle edging his reply. "Perhaps."

**oOo**

"You are not supposed to be here." The qunari we encounter in the room beyond the doors is... unexpected, to say the least. His almost accusatory tone makes me raise an eyebrow.

"Neither are you," I shoot back, hearing Anders chuckle behind me.

"That is not true," the qunari objects. "I have permission to trade with the darkspawn. You were brought here. The ones they bring here are not allowed to roam free."

My eyebrow quirks higher. _What?_ "Would you... trade with me?"

He nods. "I suppose."

"Warden!" Velanna calls from the other side of the room, peering in a trunk. "Are these not the rest of your things?"

We join her, and I nod when I see the contents of the trunk. "They are. Thanks, Velanna." She mutters something about not mentioning it and backs off, playing with a spell wisp floating around her hand.

"I don't get her," I comment to Anders in an undertone as he helps me pull out all the knick knacks and various things in the trunk.

"None of us do, Rahna. She's sullen and resentful and... prickly." He grins. "And yet I keep catching her staring at Nathaniel."

"Oh, Maker..." I groan, resting my head against the trunk lid. "No. Just... no."

"Since I've yet to catch him looking _back_, I don't think there's anything to worry about, Rahna."

"Good." I scooop out the last of our stuff and then return to trade with the qunari, Armaas. As we finish, I ask if he'd like to trade at the Vigil. Woolsey was groaning about needing more merchants the last time I stopped back in. There's apparently someone coming from Denerim, but she wants more than just that.

"Hmm. Vigil's Keep... I know it." Armaas nods. "If there is coin to be had, Armaas will be there."

"Thank you." Having trading several non-essential things in for health poultices and coin, I turn to the others. "Alright, let's get moving."

Anders and Nathaniel each grab a handle of the huge doors in front of us and pull them open.

"Seranni!" Velanna cries, darting through the door.

"Velanna, wait!" We don't know what's in there; this could be a trap, it could be anything, really. Rushing in like that's what got us caught in the first place. I hear Nathaniel mutter under his breath as the rest of us follow Velanna, but the Dalish mage only has eyes for her sister, who stands on a balcony halfway down the length of the room.

Next to the Architect.

_Oh, sod, sod, sod... _My instincts are screaming that this is not good, and from the way Nathaniel has an arrow nocked even before we all reach the middle of the room, he feels it too. _Never question a rogue's instincts_. The saying, one of my mother's favorites, whispers through my mind as Seranni turns to the Architect and nods. The darkspawn raises a hand, and a pair of screeches echo from the far end of the room, followed shortly by the cause.

_Maker take it __**all**__!_ I draw my swords as I turn to face the two dragon thralls. "You three all need to stay as far back as possible," I holler, sizing up the reddish creatures even as they charge toward us.

"What about you?" Anders yells back as he and Velanna both start backpedaling toward one of the columns that edge the room.

"Don't worry about me! Just... drop a force field on one of the things, please!" Hardly a second after I ask, one of the dragons freezes mid-stride, jaw open to let out a bellow that will have to wait. "_Thank _you! Now, focus on the other one!" A fireball, stonefist, and wickedly fast arrow all fly past me, and I chuckle as I spin my swords around my hands in anticipation of this fight. _Come and get me._

The dragon meets my mental challenge with a roar, raking the air with its claws. I dodge to the side and manage to avoid them. Mostly. Even the glancing blow, however, sends me staggering toward the wall. I shake my head to clear the stars and circle around behind the dragon.

"You need to die," I mutter, slashing at its wings. One blade cuts deep and the dragon jerks away from me with a yowl of rage, nearly yanking the sword out of my hand. A few seconds later, the force field wears off the trapped dragon and both of them spring into the air, flying circles for a minute before landing again, one nearly on top of me. "Maker!" I yelp, scrambling out of the way. A crushing prison of magic forms around the dragon and it whirls toward Anders. "Anders, _**move**_!" I slash both swords against the dragon's flank, trying to recapture its attention.

It works, a little too well. The dragon spins back toward me, slamming me to the ground as its tail lashes out and catches Nathaniel. He lets out a half-muttered curse as his bow clatters against the ground, ducking a second strike from the tail as he goes after it.

I'm too busy trying keep the dragon from clawing my face-one scar is enough, thank you-to really care, despite the rarity of hearing Nathaniel curse. _Someone get it off me, now!_ The dragon finally stumbles back as a rough, crumbling boulder crashes into its head. It lets out a whining roar and weaves on its feet. _Almost, come on, come __**on**__!_ I scramble to my feet, ramming both swords into the dragon's chest as I do. It falls with a hideous death rattle, and I pluck my swords from its corpse to take on the second one.

It's already wounded when I turn to it, several arrows sticking out of its hide and ice flaking from its limbs. I swipe the back of one hand against my forehead to brush my hair out of my face as I dodge sideways to avoid getting hit.

"Maker, this is ridiculous..." I groan. My retalitory strike scores deep into the dragon's shoulder and it roars in pain. Unable to even stand properly, it makes another half-hearted swipe at me but misses.

"Rahna, get out of the way!" Anders hollers. I obey instinctively, diving to the side. "Suck on a fireball!" The spell flies past me, enveloping the dragon in flame. It doesn't do as much as it would normally, since this _is_ a dragon, but it's still enough, especially when coupled with the lightning bolt Velanna summons.

Our attention returns to the Architect now that the dragons are both dead. It simply touches Seranni's shoulder, and she and a dwarf I hadn't previously noticed head down an overgrown tunnel behind them. Before following, the Architect pauses in the opening, a glowing ball of magic growing between its hands.

"_Seranni!_" Velanna yells, running toward the tunnel.

"Velanna, don't!" Nathaniel grabs her arm to stop her as the Architect throws its hands apart, whatever spell it summoned causing the tunnel to collapse behind it.

We stand and stare at the rubble for a minute before Velanna speaks. "No! Why is she with that monster? We _must _get to her!"

I'm half tempted to dismiss her hysteria, but a thought whispers through my mind. _How far would you go for Shianni? Or Soris? _"We'll find another way, I promise," I assure her.

Something sparks to life in her eyes. "They say Wardens can sense darkspawn, even deep beneath the ground." Her gaze is fierce as she loks at me. "I would join the Grey Wardens. Give me the ability to hunt down these monsters in the Deep."

"The Joining could kill you," I warn her.

"At the very least, it's hard to get the taste out of your mouth for a couple of hours," Anders chips in.

"I am not afraid of death," Velanna retorts. "I will pledge my service to you in exchange for the powers your order can grant. What say you?"

I can't really say no to that. "Very well. Welcome to the Grey Wardens." _What am I getting myself into?_

"Ma serannas," she replies gratefully. "Shall we go then? I've had enough of this place."

"I couldn't agree more," I chuckle, leading the way out of the caverns.

_A/N: Whew, finally done... more or less. They still have to collect Sigrun and get out of the woods, but that shouldn't take long, right? *crickets* Right? Rahna, what are you grinning like that for...? *sigh* Barring some huge curveball from my girl, there's only going to be one more chapter that mentions the Wending Wood. And then on to Amaranthine. There's quite a bit of business to take care of there._


	28. The Lesser of Two Evils

28. The Lesser of Two Evils

"Vincent, behind you!" Miri's warning rang through the tunnel a split second before the shriek appeared, but it was enough for the warrior to duck and spin out of the way of the darkspawn's nasty, slashing blades. He wheeled and slammed his shield into its chest. The shriek stumbled back and bent, stunned by the blow. Vincent wasted no time relieving it of its head long before it recovered. The corpse tumbled to the ground just as Ashe reached her brother's side.

"What were you saying about things seeming pretty quiet for the Deep Roads?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Well, they _were_," Vincent retorted. "I mean, a week and a half without seeing _anything_..." He turned to Miri. "Thanks for the warning. How did you sense that thing?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just could. Maybe it's a mage thing, maybe it's an elf thing, I could just tell that it was there." Her face screwed in a wince and one hand shot out to latch onto Jowan's arm. "And there's more coming."

He steadied her, the chittering presence of the approaching darkspawn filling his mind as well. "I feel them, too, Mir."

"Where-" Ashe cut herself off as a pair of shrieks appeared around a cuve in the tunnel. "Oh. There." Her axes came out, and the dark-haired woman charged toward the darkspawn.

"Ashe, wait!" Miri hollered, the words lost under the roar of an ogre. "There's more..." she muttered, looking over at Jowan as Vincent rushed to help his sister. "Come on."

The total count for the darkspawn in the group they'd encountered came to one ogre, two emissaries, and five shrieks. "Andraste preserve us," Jowan muttered as the last of the shrieks came into view. "Miri..."

"I know," the elf retorted, flinging a force field toward the ogre. "It's a lot. We can take 'em, Jowan."

Even as she spoke, two of the shrieks fell to Ashe's axes, and Vincent knocked the hurlock emissary off its feet, interrupting whatever spell it was about to cast and slashing at its head and chest.

The stonefist Jowan threw at the genlock emissary was a hair too slow, and it managed to summon a bolt of chain lightning that leapt between the four of them before being thrown into the wall.

It hurt. A lot. It took all the willpower Jowan could muster not to pass out, or at the least drop his staff. He heard Miri whimper as she fought through the pain as well. Ashe just let out a yell of rage and used the pain to fuel her movements, and Vincent hardly seemed phased by it as he finished off the hurlock emissary. He was turning to do the same with the dazed genlock when the ogre broke free of the force field and slapped him aside.

"Vince!" Ashe shrieked as the warrior slammed into the wall. She whirled toward the two mages, her braid falling free of its bun. "Miri!"

The dark skinned mage nodded and summoned a healing spell, the pale blue light eerie in the dim cavern. "Hurry up!"

"We're trying!" Ashe yelled, her attention back on the remaining shrieks as Vincent staggered to his feet.

"Ashe-" Whatever he was about to say died in his throat as the genlock emissary trapped him in a crushing prison spell.

"Bastard!" Ashe shrieked, her eyes burning with fury as she charged toward the emissary, ducking and rolling under the ogre's hand as the beast made a sweep at her, and coming up next to the emissary. It had time for one short whine of dismay before she buried both her axes in its skull. The spell that trapped Vincent died with the creature who had cast it, and he threw himself back into the fight, shearing through the encroaching darkspawn.

"Ashe, watch out!" Jowan hollered as the ogre lumbered up behind her. She spun to face it, but not fast enough.

The ogre's hand closed around her chest as it snatched her up, pummeling her viciously with its other fist.

"_Ashe!_" Vincent screamed in rage, throwing himself at the ogre with a renewed fury that honestly scared both Jowan and Miri.

"He's gonna get himself killed," the elf muttered, flinging a lightning bolt at one of the remaining shrieks.

"It _is_ his sister," Jowan reminded her as he summoned an ice spell to throw at the ogre.

"I know, but still... Ah!" Miri broke off, the healing spell she was trying to summon dying as her hands flew to her head.

"What's wrong?" Jowan demanded. _We can't lose you now, Mir..._

"There's more coming," she gritted out between clenched teeth. "A lot more."

"Marvelous." Jowan called up the best healing spell he could and directed it at Ashe, just as the warrior's grip on her axes slackened enough that they fell, clattering against the stone floor of the cavern. The sound seemed to whip Vincent into an even worse state of frenzy, to the point he hardly seemed to notice when the ogre lashed out and kicked him square in the chest.

He let out another cry of rage and slashed at the ogre's knees. It bellowed in pain and threw Ashe against the wall. She let out a small whimper and tried to stand. Her legs wobbled and gave out just as a small horde of genlocks flooded into the cavern.

Miri cursed more loudly than Jowan could ever remember her doing before, but even the powerful healing spell she summoned didn't seem to do more than keep Ashe alive. "Maker's sodding eyes, this is not good!"

They were now facing a shriek, an injured but infuriated ogre, and twenty-odd genlocks. Those wouldn't have been good odds even before Ashe was knocked out, and as things stood, they were downright horrible. The ogre made things even worse when it lowered its head and rammed into Vincent's chest. The full weight of such a massive creature was more than the warrior could resist, and he stumbled, landing on his back as the genlocks swept through like water. The crush of creatures was so great it even seperated the two mages, pushing them to stand at opposite sides of the tunnel leading into the bloody cavern.

Miri threw up her hand, yelling the words of a mind blast spell as loudly as she could-which was quite loud, considering how tiny she was-and sending several genlocks flying back as they tried to surround her. "Jowan!"

He flung out an ice spell in a wide arc, catching several genlocks, before he looked up at her. "What?"

"Do... something!" the elf panted. The two of them glanced over at Vincent as he struggled to his feet and bellowed in rage before spinning in a vicious circle that knocked back a few of the darkspawn crowding him. "We... we can't... keep this up..."

_What am __**I**__ supposed to do? I'm as low on mana as you are!_ The instant the protest was birthed in his mind, Jowan's thoughts flew to the small dagger he kept "just in case" he ran into something unaffected by magic. _No. I'm not..._ The very thought of using blood magic made him want to retch._ It's been so long, I don't even remember most of the spells, anyway._

_Well, several people, including your best friend, are going to __**die**__ if you don't do __**something**__!_ the rest of him retorted. Fighting himself every inch of the way, Jowan reached for the dagger, frantically trying to either remember something worthwhile or think of a way out of this. Unfortunately, the former came to him first. He looked at the dagger, choked back the cry of protest building in his throat, and closed his eyes.

"Maker, forgive me," he whispered, and slashed the blade across his palm. The familiar rush, that intoxicating flood of _power_ filled him as the blood trickled across his hand. _The horror's new, though..._

"_**Jowan!**_" Miri shrieked as the genlocks closed in on her again.

The syllables of the spell tumbled only half-remembered from his lips, softly at first, but slowly louder as he grew more sure of the words. It only took a little of his blood to get the spell really going, and then the blood of the darkspawn did the rest. Not a single one in the cavern managed to resist, and soon they all stood twitching, writhing as their blood boiled in their veins.

Vincent took full advantage of the immobility of the darkspawn, cutting down genlocks like grass. Miri managed to summon an ice spell that finished off the shriek before collapsing from exhaustion against the tunnel wall.

Jowan held the spell as long as he could, gritting his teeth against the nausea and exhaustion that threatened until all the darkspawn were dead. Then and only then did he lower his hands and let both the self-loathing nausea and the exhaustion knock him off his feet.

_Maker, I'm sorry... I didn't want to, but Miri was gonna die... what choice did I have?_ He fell to his knees, hands skidding slightly as they hit the ground. A wince tugged at his lips as the open cut across his palm dragged over gravel, the pain feeling like a reprimand for the means he'd resorted to in order to save his best friend.

"Jowan?" Miri sounded worried as she knelt next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm... fine, Mir," he panted, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand.

"No, you're not," she contradicted. "You're white as a sheet!"

He shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "Miri, I'll... I'll be fine. Take care of Ashe."

"Vincent's got her. No magic required at the moment. Lemme see." She tugged on his wrist until he let her look at his hand, wincing in sympathy as she brushed gravel away from the edges of the wound. "Jowan..."

"I know, Mir," he muttered, eyes still on the ground.

"Jowan, look at me," she said, tone soft but insistent nonetheless. He looked up at her and saw the understanding written as plainly on her face as he was sure the guilt was on his. "Don't."

"Don't what, Miri?" he challenged, sitting back on his heels as she held his gaze.

"Don't you dare feel ashamed for that. Ever." She shook her head.

"Miri, blood magic-"

"I know. The Wardens don't forbid it. You're not under Chantry law any more once you join, remember?"

"That's was one of Rahna's biggest selling points, of course I remember," he retorted.

"Than you have no reason to feel guilty." She summoned a healing spell, and the two of them watched the skin on his hand knit back together until not even a scar remained. At least, not from this time. Miri brushed her index finger against the dark brown line that creased the center of his palm as if she knew where his thoughts had gone. With as long as she'd known him, she probably did. "This is different," she whispered fiercely. "_Very_ different."

"Not really..."

"We're not having this argument, not here." She squeezed his hand. "And we need to get you some proper mage robes."

"Miri, no. Not this again." Jowan pushed to his feet and brushed his hands off against his pants.

"Yes, this again," she insisted as she accepted the hand up he offered her.

"Mir, these clothes provide just as much protection as robes would, maybe even a little more. I don't need robes. And these are more comfortable, anyway," he protested, shoving up his sleeves.

"But robes would have enchantments to help with regaining mana, so we could avoid things like that, since you seem to so thoroughly _loathe_ using blood magic," Miri countered.

"I-" Jowan sighed and ran one hand through his hair, completing the destruction of his mostly-gone ponytail as he did. "Can we save that for later as well? Please?"

"Yes, please?" Vincent muttered, crossing to join them with his sister's arm slung around his shoulders. "We should find somewhere to set up some sort of camp and rest. And then head back for the fortress."

"Vince, don't stop on my account," Ashe protested, trying to get him to let go of her arm. "I can manage."

"No, you can't, Ashe. I'm not just speaking as your brother here. I'm in charge of this expedition, and I say we need to rest after a fight like that. And we're running low on supplies. It's just common sense to go back now." She huffed in exasperation, but didn't have a comeback. "Out of curiosity," Vincent began, turning to Jowan. "What in the Maker's name did you _do_?"

"It's a spell called Blood Wound," Jowan explained reluctantly. "It makes the blood of the victim, target, whatever you want to call them, boil in their veins. It takes a lot of concentration to pull off."

"I can tell. You're almost as pale as Ashe," the warrior commented. "Thank you, by the way."

"Oh, um, you're welcome," Jowan muttered as he and Miri fell in step behind the two warriors and they headed off in search of a safe place to rest.

He spent every step wrestling with what he'd done. Despite Vincent's thanks and Miri's reminder blood magic wasn't forbidden to Grey Wardens, it still felt _wrong_. Maybe it was a lifetime under Chantry supervision in the Circle, maybe it was knowing Rahna was less than fond of blood magic, maybe it was remembering Lily every time he thought about it, he wasn't sure, but there was something that made his skin crawl at the thought of using it, especially regularly.

It felt evil, to be honest.

_But you saved Miri's life with that blood magic spell. Would letting her die have been any less evil?_

_Of course not! It would have been worse._

_Well, then, consider this the lesser of two evils and stop obsessing over it._

"Jowan, relax." Miri tugged on his elbow. "I know what you're thinking about, and you need to cut that out."

"I can't," he admitted. "I just... I swore I'd never use blood magic again after... after what happened, and now..."

"I think there's more to it than that."

"Well, there's that, and, um, Rahna doesn't like blood magic," he muttered.

"Uh-huh," Miri grinned. "Thought so. Oh, look, Vincent found a place to rest." Miri scurried forward to rejoin the warriors, helping Vincent ease his sister to the ground, despite Ashe's loud protests that she was _not_ an invalid-with Vincent swiftly pointing out that at the moment she actually was-and leaving Jowan to puzzle over her last comment.

_'Thought so'? What's that supposed to mean?_

_A/N: Maker, this was fun. And it came out fast. Really, really fast. And I feel like a terrible person for making Jowan use blood magic again. I mean worse than I feel for anything else I've done to anyone throughout the entirety of Aftermath and Absence. It was really hard to actually make him do it. I know some people have him use it all the time and it works for them, but in this story, he hates it-and himself for using it-so it was a real struggle. But I had this picture of him being forced to use blood magic to save Miri and the others(which is part of why I gave them another chapter, btw), and it wouldn't go away, so I indulged it. I am now mentally snuggling him in apology. =P Wat? _


	29. Moving On

29. Moving On

"There you are! I was starting to get worried!" Sigrun sits upright as Pounce hops out of her lap and tangles himself around Anders' feet.

"Hey there, Ser Pounce-a-lot. Did you miss me?" the mage croons, scooping him up.

_Mrwarrrwr_. The cat purrs contentedly and rubs his back against Anders' cheek before curling up on his shoulder and promptly falling back asleep.

"I'd take that as a yes," I laugh. "Everything go okay out here, Sigrun?"

She nods. "Yep. There was a funny human woman looking for plant seeds 'bout a hour ago. She kept muttering to herself and complaining about... well, everything, come to think of it." The dwarf grins and rubs the lighter grey summoned wolf when it bumps its head against her shoulder. "She was lookin' for Northern Prickleweed, or somethin' like that. I think she found 'em. Other than her, it's been very boring up here. What about you guys?"

"Long story, Sig," I chuckle. "I'll tell you on the way out of here."

"Okay. Sounds good." She looks up at Nathaniel and grins. "Nice armor."

"Thanks." He offers her a hand up. "Come on. We need to get started if we want to get out of here before it's dark."

"Rush, rush... What're you all business for?" she teases as she grabs his hand and hauls herself up.

"I'm with Nathaniel on this one," Anders chimes in. "I'd rather not spend the night in the woods again, thanks." He gives an exaggerated shudder.

Velanna snorts. "Humans," she mutters under her breath.

"Velanna." I shoot her a pointed look. "Nathaniel's right, though. If we want to make decent progress before it gets dark, we really should start now. And I guess we don't need these two anymore," I add, looking at the wolves. Mine cocks her head as she looks back. "And I'm sure you have better things to do," I mutter when our eyes meet. She lets out a small whine. "Alright then. Off y' go." She takes off without a backward glance, and I can't help but wonder if she has pups. Nathaniel's wolf isn't far behind her. "Right. Now it's our turn. Let's get out of here."

"Right behind you, Rahna." Anders grins and reaches over to tweak one of my pigtails. I smack his hand and glare at him as I head for the path out of the woods.

"So, fill me in. What happened down there?" Sigrun demands, distracting me before I can make a comment at the mage.

"Well, there was this darkspawn..." I begin as we walk.

**oOo**

Anders and I end up trading off filling Sigrun in on what she missed, since he can't seem to keep his mouth shut and keeps interrupting me. We're almost done-he's telling her about the dragon thralls at the end-when I decide to let him, because eavesdropping on Nathaniel and Velanna is _much_ more entertaining than racing Anders to get out our story.

"You believe that your ancestors used to be immortal." The way Nathaniel says it, it's a statement more than a question, but Velanna still treats it as the latter.

"I don't 'believe' it, it's true," she retorts.

"How do you know?" Nathaniel asks, his tone very much neutral.

"Why would the elders lie?" Velanna sounds exasperated, as if she considers the archer rather stupid for not considering that point.

"Why indeed?" Nathaniel mutters.

"So you _don't_ believe the elves were immortal?"

"Did I say that?" There's the fainstest hint of either annoyance or amusment in Nathaniel's voice now; I can't decide which.

"You asked me if I believed my ancestors were once immortal," Velanna reminds him, sounding very near the end of her abnormally short temper.

"And where in that question was it implied I believed otherwise?" Nathaniel returns. I won't turn around-that would clue them in that I'm listening-but I swear he sounds like he's smiling.

"Then you _do_ believe the elves were immortal," she says.

"I didn't say that either," Nathaniel retorts.

"You... are... _**exasperating**_," Velanna seethes, sounding ready to tear his head off. However, I can't help but giggle exactly in conjunction with Nathaniel's low chuckle, which tips her off that I overheard, so she settles for letting out a growl of outrage and stomping forward until she's almost caught up with Anders and Sigrun.

I drop back to walk with Nathaniel. "Maker, Nathaniel, was that you actually having _fun_?"

"That has been known to happen occassionally, Commander," he replies with a wry smile.

"Still... that was... entertaining to listen to. Even if she's probably concocting some sort of revenge right as we speak."

"Probably," he agrees. We walk in silence for a few moments before he speaks up again. "Commander, are we going to stop at the Vigil or just go straight to Amaranthine?"

"I was planning to just go straight to Amaranthine, mostly so we could find Delilah. And because I'm sure if we stop at the Vigil, Varel will have something politics related for me to deal with, and I'd rather put that off as long as possible." I wrinkle my nose in disgust at the mere thought.

"Mmm. Can't blame you. I never really cared for politics, either."

"Really?" I have to admit, I'm surprised. Eldest son of an arl? I thought someone like that would come into the world with a love-and head-for politics.

"Why d'you think I was in the Free Marches?"

I shrug. "I dunno. I figured it was something nobles did; squire their children off to help them 'grow up' so they could be better rulers or something like that."

He shakes his head. "Not my father. He-" He sighs. "I disappointed him. So he sent me to the Free Marches and moved on to Thomas. Thomas was far more like him."

_He's probably going to hate me for saying this... _But I'm physically incapable of keeping my mouth shut. As usual. "Nathaniel, I'm sorry, but from what I saw of your father, I can't help but think you being different from him is a very good thing."

"I don't want to do this now, Commander." He sounds tired.

"Good. I don't really want to, either. That just... I needed to say it." I look up at him. "Whatever anyone may have told you, Nathaniel, you're a good man."

"Am I now?" he chuckles.

"You are. Even if you _were _planning to kill me," I tease.

"You are the only person I've ever met who's so flip about something like that," he mutters.

I snort a laugh. "I'm used to it by now. I told you about Zevran, right?"

He nods. "You did."

"There ya go." I'm distracted when I notice Sigrun surreptitiously bend down, scoop up a handful of dirt, and sniff it. Anders and Velanna are bickering-again-and I'm sure the dwarf thinks no one's paying attention to her. _What's she up to?_

Apparently Velanna is wondering the same thing. "What are you doing, dwarf?"

"Nothin'." Sigrun's hand drops to her side, soil spilling between her fingers.

"You were sniffing dirt!" the elf accuses.

"I was not!" Sigrun protests.

"You did! I saw you!" Velanna's persistant. Probably still steamed following her conversation with Nathaniel.

"Oh, fine. I did," Sigrun confesses, face slightly red under her tattoos. "But it smells so good. Like fallen leaves and sunlight. Anyway, aren't elves supposed to be close to nature?"

"Figuratively!" Velanna growls. "We don't stuff our noses in it!"

"Y'know, you're really, really grumpy," Sigrun informs her, her own tone far too cheery.

"Oh, you noticed," Velanna snorts, rolling her eyes.

"I'm good at reading people," the dwarf retorts, tone still cheerful.

"So it had nothing to do with the fact that I'm terribly obvious about it?"

"Nope. Hey, Commander, where're we goin' when we get out of here?"

I have to laugh at how very _red_ Velanna's gone before replying. "I was figuring on heading to Amaranthine. We have to go there for several reasons, and I can sell there just as well as I can at the Vigil."

"Sounds like a plan."

**oOo**

We actually manage to make a fair bit of progress past the woods before it gets dark enough we have to set up camp. Tonight's my turn to cook, which brings a teasing groan from Anders. I promptly reach over and smack the back of his head.

"You don't have to eat, y' know," I threaten with a laugh, remembering how well that worked in Kal'Hirol. All the side effects of the Joining seem to have hit Anders harder than anyone else I've ever seen, from the nightmares to the appetite. Lucky him.

"If you don't want me to keep you up all night complaining I do," he shoots back.

"Oh, I'm sure Velanna would be all too happy to gag you if I ask her to," I point out sweetly. "And I'll do it, too."

"I believe you," he mutters, shooting me a dirty look.

"Anyways, it's not like you have any room to talk, Anders. You're one of the only people I've ever met who's a worse cook than me."

"Freely concede the point," he chuckles. "Now go fix something. Preferably something that's edible."

"You-" I glare at him. "Ah, forget it. I'm walking away now. Rat." I stick my tongue out at him and get a cheeky grin in return. _Maker, I swear, I'm gonna throw something at him in a minute..._ I shake my head and consciously ignore him instead, digging through my pack to see what we have, food-wise, while everyone else takes care of setting up camp.

**oOo**

There isn't much to work with-food is one of the things I need to buy in Amaranthine-but I make do, and the stew I manage to cobble together is a half step up from edible, a fact I make sure to point out to Anders when I hand him a good-sized bowl. "Enjoy."

"I'll... try," he teases, wrinkling his nose in mock concern.

I make a face at him and pull on his ponytail before dishing out some for Sigrun and Velanna. Nathaniel is too busy examining his bow to notice the food's ready, so I dish up some and take it to him. "Here. And-fair warning-you might want to actually taste it before you thank me."

A half smile tugs at one side of his mouth as he takes the bowl and sets it on the ground. "It can't be worse than some of the things I've had to eat, Commander," he comments before turning his attention back to his bow, a look of mild irritation on his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask, sitting next to him.

"It's cracked." His frown deepens as he traces the plainly visible split in the wood just below the grip. "Must've happened when I dropped it."

"Not like that was your fault, Nathaniel," I point out, resting my chin on my hand. "Blame the dragon."

"Doesn't matter who I blame, Commander. Either way, the damage is too serious to simply repair. I need a new bow."

Something occurs to me when he says that. "Hold that thought just one second." I scramble to my feet, nearly tripping as I dart for my pack. _Did I bring that with me? Maker, tell me I did._ I want to cheer when I find that I did. I work free the unstrung bow I found in the crypt under the Vigil and offer it to him. "Will this do? I keep forgetting to give it to you."

"It should," he replies as he takes it. "It looks like a good bow..." His voice trails off as he looks at the bow. "Is this... what I think it is?" The disbelief in his voice melts into astonishment upon a closer examination. "It is! That's the Howe crest burned into the wood, right there." He rubs his thumb over the emblazoned crest, looking up at me with mingled surprise and-_no sodding way_-excitement in his eyes. The only other time I've seen the quiet, serious mask he usually wears drop so completely was talking to that groundskeeper who told him about Delilah.

"What is it, exactly?" I ask, hardly able to process that he actually looks _happy_.

"This is my grandfather's bow," Nathaniel explains, pulling the string off the old bow to use on the new one. "Or, rather, my grandfather was the last to use it. It was originally made for an ancestor during the Exalted Marches."

"Ah. Well, it's yours now," I comment, feeling a satisfied warmth settle inside me.

"Thank you," he replies. "It's good to have a part of my family's legacy again, something to be proud of."

_I'll bet. _I have to smile, remembering our earlier conversation. "You're welcome. Now, eat before your food gets cold." I nudge the bowl. "You have first watch tonight, and I don't want you doing it on an empty stomach."

"As you wish, Commander." He sets the bow aside and reaches for the bowl of stew.

I push off the ground to go get myself some food, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact _Nathaniel Howe_ looks _happy_. Or, at least, I think he does. And that fact makes _me_ far happier than it probably should.

_A/N: I'm sort of sorry for spamming so many game banters in one chapter, but sort of not. If that makes sense... There were just a bunch of Velanna's where I noticed that two would flow together quiet nicely as one loooong banter, so I combined them. Thus, four Velanna banters in one chapter(woohoo!). And I really hope I'm not the only person who gets knida sorta... giggly, for lack of a better word, upon giving Nathaniel the Howe bow and him seeming as close to thrilled as he ever really gets. xD_


	30. What Friends Are For

30. What Friends Are For

Our journey to Amaranthine is surprisingly uneventful. I'm so used to being attacked by bandits or wolves or _something_ that the absence of anything like that is... kind of weird, actually. Not that I'm complaining or anything. It's a welcome change. As is the truce of sorts Anders and Velanna seem to have reached. The two of them are deep in conversation with at least the appearance of civility. If it was anyone else, I'd be tempted to think they were planning something, but Velanna doesn't seem the type to plan mischief with Anders. Since their conversation, whatever the topic, is too low pitched for me to follow, I return my attention to the colorful description of Dust Town Sigrun's giving Nathaniel. Getting the perspective of someone who actually lived there is far different than simply seeing the miserable conditions like I did during the Blight, and I find myself silently thanking the Maker I grew up in an Alienage rather than a place like that.

"So, what all do you have on your list for when we get to the city?" Anders asks, interrupting my train of thought.

"Well, I promised Nathaniel we'd look for Delilah, we need to sell some of the stuff we found in the woods and the mines, I desperately need to buy more food, and we're sort of running low on lyrium potions, too. Oh, and I need to talk to Mervis, tell him everything should be okay with his caravans now, and I need to check the chantry records for something."

"What?"

"You remember those papers I found in that chest before Kal'Hirol?"

"The one you couldn't get open?" he grins.

"Yes, that one." I give him a dark look. "There were papers in there about some man named Darran Lyle finding something in the Knotwood Hills. Chalk it up to curiosity, but I wanna know what."

"You elves and your curiosity, I swear," Anders teases. "Miri was constantly getting in trouble because she was too curious for her own good. Even after she went all teacher's-"

"Teacher's pet, I know; you told me that part already," I interrupt with a grin. "Was there _anyone_ in the Circle you got along with?"

He's suddenly very interested in looking everywhere but my eyes. "A couple. Trinne mostly."

"Trinne?" I raise an eyebrow and wonder why she's such a touchy subject.

"My partner in crime. She was as much a mischief making scamp as Miri was a teacher's pet. The only person in the whole damn tower who actually egged me on instead of telling me to behave myself."

I check to make sure the others are all far enough away this is essentially a private conversation before pressing things. "Was?"

He sighs, rubs the back of his neck. "Greagoir and Irving decided she wasn't a good enough mage to pass the Harrowing. So they made her Tranquil instead."

I wince. "Oh." _Maker, what do I say to that?_ I end up-for once in my life-keeping my mouth shut and not saying _anything_. The rest of the walk to Amaranthine is unusually silent, at least where I'm concerned.

**oOo**

Finding Delilah is far easier than I was expecting. We all but walk into each other not far inside the marketplace.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologizes, her face going pink. "I really need to pay more attention to where I'm going."

I'd know this woman was Nathaniel's sister without him saying a word. She has the same ice blue eyes as her brother, even if hers are more happy than serious.

" 'S alright," I laugh. "It was as much my fault as yours anyway. Are you Delilah?"

She nods, frowning slightly in confusion. "I am. Do I... know you?"

"Me? No." I shake my head and grin. "_Him_ on the other hand..." I let the sentence trail off as I jerk a thumb over my shoulder at Nathaniel.

Delilah's eyes go wide when she recognizes him. "Nathaniel?" Her hug is so enthusiastic she almost knocks him over. "Oh, Maker's breath, I've missed you! I'd feared the worst after Thomas..." She clears her throat and doesn't finish her thought.

"I missed you as well," Nathaniel replies, returning her hug-after he catches his balance.

I can't help but feel I'm intruding the entire duration of their hug. _After all_, I remind myself,_ It's been __**years**__ since they saw each other, and apparently she was just as sure he was dead as he was about her. We should probably go..._

"I understand that times must have been hard, Delilah, but you can do better than this," Nathaniel comments as his sister finally steps back so they can talk. "You should come back to the estate until we find somewhere else."

"What?" she laughs. "I didn't marry Albert out of desperation, silly. I _adore_ him!" And looking at Delilah, I have to admit she perfectly fits the stereotype of a contended merchant's wife. Her dark hair is decorated by a single narrow braid, her dress plain but well-made. And the smile stretching across her face is as genuine as the one I got from Nathaniel a couple nights ago when I gave him the bow. This woman is _happy_. "I was so glad to get away from Father's evil," she continues, "this life is _so_ much better."

Nathaniel frowns. "Father's... _evil_? Isn't that overstating things a little? He got caught up in politics..."

Delilah shakes her head. "You weren't here. You didn't see what he did, Nathaniel." Her voice is little more than a whisper, and I find myself torn between wondering how horrible the man was to his own daughter and wanting to cheer, because maybe Nathaniel will _listen_ to her. Her eyes go hard as she finishes, "You want the culprit who destroyed our family? It was him, without question." She folds her arms across her chest as if cold from the mere memory.

Nathaniel darts a glance at me-and I try my best to hide the 'I-told-you-so' bubbling up my throat-before looking back at his sister. "I... I had no idea."

"Of course you did, Nate," Delilah contradicts. "But you always worshipped Father, right from when you were a little boy." She shakes her head again. "But where are my manners?" She loops her arm through Nathaniel's and gives a small tug. "Come on, brother. We should sit and catch up a bit."

He looks at me again. "Commander?"

"Go," I laugh. "Talk to your sister. That's the whole bloody reason we're here." _Maybe she'll finally talk some sense into you..._

"Thank you." He follows Delilah toward a low, thatch-roofed house, and I hear her ask about me being 'Commander' before they pass through the doorway and out of earshot.

"So, where to now?" Sigrun asks, twirling a loose bit of hair that's escaped from one of her pigtails.

"Wherever it is, we're walking as slowly as possible. I want to give them as much time to talk as we can."

"Got it, Commander," the dwarf laughs.

"Would someone explain this to me?" Velanna chips in, sounding more than a little put out, and I realize she hasn't been part of our merry band long enough to understand the whole situation with Nathaniel. I give her the short version. The _very_ short version. And then find myself having to explain about Arl Howe as well, since the Dalish are so remote from society at large she doesn't even know about_ that_.

"And after all that you _let_ him join?" she demands when I'm done.

"Nathaniel's not his father, trust me," I mutter, kicking a pebble and half hoping it'll ricochet and bounce off her head or something. "I'm not in the habit of killing people for crimes they didn't commit."

"This is a bit of a sore spot with her, love," Anders chips in. "I'd leave it alone if I were you."

And for the next couple minutes, Velanna does exactly that, instead haranguing him for calling her 'love'. I could explain to her that's just the way he talks to anyone female, but listening to her laying in to him is way too fun. And it shuts up the quiet twinge of what feels almost like jealousy in my gut.

"Come on, let's go." I need to find Mervis. And sell all the unnecessary gear and junk we've picked up.

**oOo**

"There you are!" The tanned, angular elf glowers at Anders, crossing her arms as the mage swings to face her. "I've been waitin' for you. 'Bout time you got here."

He looks absolutely shocked to see her. "Namaya! You're still here?"

Her scowl deepens. "_I_ keep my promises, mage. And it turns out you were right; the cache is here in Amaranthine."

"It's here? You found it?" I don't think I've ever seen Anders look so elated.

_Cache? What're they talking about?_

"I did," Namaya shoots back, handing over a dog-eared piece of vellum. "What you do with that information is up to you. I for one am done dealing with mages." She turns to me. "Word of advice? Don't let him sweet talk you. He's _very_ good at that."

Anders rubs the back of his neck. "Er, I... guess I should thank you."

"Damned right you should," Namaya snorts. "You get caught, Anders, I'm not helping you again. That's all I'm saying." With that, the elf walks away, not even sparing a backward glance.

Anders smiles sheepishly at me. "I... suppose that requires some explanation..."

_Ya think?_ "No, not at all! Don't be silly!" I snark at him.

"I am fluent in sarcasm. You can't fool me!" the mage shoots back. "Namaya is... a friend."

_What kind of friend?_ I can't help but wonder.

"Last time I escaped the tower I asked her to look into some things," Anders continues, "That's why I was in Amaranthine in the first place. The templars thought it was to take a ship, but I was actually meeting her."

"And what was that about a cache of some kind?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.

"Oh, during the Blight, the templars moved their store of phylacteries to Amaranthine for safety. Including mine, Namaya learned. So long as the templars have that sample of my blood, they can _always_ find me."

"But... you're a Warden now. They can't actually _do _anything to you," I point out.

He scoffs, shakes his head. "And what's to stop the Chantry from deciding mages in the Grey Wardens are apostates, too?" he shoots back.

I can't come up with a good argument for that, which worries me, because if he's right, that means Jowan's not as safe as I'd thought he'd be, either.

Annders kicks half-heartedly at a fencepost. "I want to be sure they can't ever find me again. _Ever_."

I nod. "You're right. They shouldn't be allowed to control you."

"I know we're busy, with the fighting darkspawn and all, but the sooner we find it the better I'll feel."

"What were you saying about killing time, Commander?" Sigrun pipes up with a grin.

I chuckle. "Good point, Sig. In fact, we can go take care of that now. Might as well."

"Thanks, Rahna." Anders looks down at the rough map Namaya slapped into his hand. "It's back that way, a warehouse in the market district."

"Well, lead the way, ser mage." I grin as I fall in step next to him.

**oOo**

The warehouse is rather easy to find. Almost too easy, which has all of us on edge.

"This looks like the place," Anders mutters, comparing the street to Namaya's map. "But why would they store the phylacteries in a place like this? I mean, there's not even a lock," he points out, reaching for the door handle.

"This does seem a little too convienient," I agree, fingers twitching toward my swords.

"You can say that again," Sigrun pipes up, cracking her knuckles, which I've noticed she only does when she's stressed or nervous. "Still, we're here, right? Might as well go in."

"True," I concede, and Anders tugs open the door. There are no guards.

"Something's not right here..." This whole building just feels... _wrong_. "No way they'd leave something like this unguarded."

"Maybe they don't want to draw attention to the cache?" Anders offers, but I can tell even he doesn't buy it.

"And I'm queen of Orzammar," Sigrun mutters.

"What are we looking for, exactly?" Velanna asks, scanning the locked chests, broken crates, and ancient armoire that half-fill the room.

I briefly explain the concept of phylacteries to her and that Anders' is supposed to be here. "If we can destroy it, the templars won't be able to find him, and he'll be, well, saf_er_, at least."

"I see. Might it be in the back room?" She gestures toward the short hallway that leads to a further back storage chamber.

"It might," I agree. After at least a cursory check of the outer room, we head in that direction.

"And here I almost believed the infamous Anders wouldn't take the bait," a vaguely familiar voice chuckles as we step into the short hallway. The templar who was with Anora that first day I arrived at the Vigil, the one who called Anders a murderer, steps away from the wall, her voice rich with satisfaction.

He sighs when he sees her. "Yes, I suppose I should have known it would be you."

"You made a poor choice with this one, Commander," the templar informs me, spitting out the title as if it tastes foul to her. "Anders will never submit, not to us and not to you."

I want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off her face. "He's made an excellent Warden so far," I retort, crossing my arms and glaring at her.

" 'So far', yes," she snorts derisively. Her hand rests on the handle of her mace as she continues, "I'll make sure this murderer is never a bother to anyone again."

"What?" Anders' eyes widen in surprise, the beginnings of a spell flaring around his hands. "No, you can't arrest me! Queen Anora allowed my conscription!"

"The Chantry's authority supercedes the Crown in this matter," the templar retorts arrogantly. "You cannot hide within the Grey Wardens' ranks, mage."

_Alright, this attitude of yours is __**really**__ getting on my nerves._ "No sodding way. He stays with me."

She lets out an annoyed sigh. "This is hardly surprising. The Grey Wardens have ever been a haven for criminals and maleficar." Her gaze rakes over Anders, a scowl forming as she addresses him. "I do not know how you inspire such loyalty, Anders, but it will avail you naught. Now you come with us."

I step forward, deliberately placing myself between templar and mage, fold my arms over my chest, and lock eyes with her as I growl, "Over my dead body."

She looks ready to try and do something about fulfilling that requirement, but I figured she would, and before her fingers have closed around the grip for her mace, I'm stepping backwards and sideways, so her swing not only misses but leaves her in a rather vulnerable position.

My dagger is buried in the side of her neck less than a heartbeat later. "_Really_ bad idea, templar," I smirk as she stumbles and falls to her knees. Even as her body tumbles to the ground, however, three more templars coming running from the back room behind me.

"Rahna, watch out!" The lightning spell Anders casts even as he hollers the warning fills the room with smoke and the smell of burning ozone. I flinch as I feel it singe the side of my neck.

"Careful with those spells!" I yell, meaning both him and Velanna, since I can see the Dalish mage summoning a fire spell of some kind. The fight doesn't last long; with what we've had to fight before, three templars is nothing. The one that survives the mages' spells goes after Sigrun, which is one of the less intelligent things he could have chosen to do. She slices her sword across the back of his knees, planting her axe in the back of his head when he stumbles.

"Well... that was fun," I mutter, gingerly feeling the tender skin on the side of my neck.

"Let me take care of that." Anders rests one hand on the burn and summons a healing spell. "Sorry about that."

"Not the first time I've had to deal with friendly fire," I tease as every trace of the injury fades away under his touch.

"Very funny." He sighs. "I wonder... I wonder if Namaya knew about this, or if they fooled her, too. I guess it doesn't really matter. Thank you for standing by me like that, Rahna. I appreciate it."

I shrug. "You're my friend. Friends stick up for each other."

"I..." Something that looks _almost_ like hurt flickers in his eyes, but it's gone before I can swear to its existence. "I guess they do. Anyhow, we should move on. Y'know, before someone else rushes in to waggle a finger at us."

I laugh. "We probably should."

_A/N: And my quest to work in as many origins as possible gets another check mark. =P Trinne's an Amell; the only one I got all the way through the game, and her in-game ending was not much better than being made Tranquil(she romanced Alistair, got dumped when she made him king and then sacrificed herself killing the archdemon). I'd say the reason she wasn't in the whole 'help Jowan escape' thing that got Miri is such serious trouble was 'cause she was off causing mischief(probably with Anders)._


	31. Running Errands

31. Running Errands

The last thing I was expecting was to run into someone else I know. So when I catch a glimpse of white hair and red mage robes on my way up the chantry steps, I do a double take before all but running over to the woman. "Wynne? What're you doing here?"

She looks almost as surprised to see me. "Oh, it's good to see you, Zerahna!" she smiles. "I had contemplated visiting you at Vigil's Keep, but things... got busy."

"Oh?" I ask, curiosity piqued. "What happened?"

"The College of Magi is convening in Cumberland, and I must attend. Hopefully this will all blow over before it's begun. But I'm sure you have enough on your mind as it is," she comments, gaze drifting over the three with me. I can't help but notice-and fight a giggle-when one eyebrow quirks ever so slightly as she notices Anders. "So I shan't trouble you further with this."

"Wynne, you know me well enough to know talkin' like that's only going to make me more curious," I point out with a grin. "Indulge me. Besides, whatever this is may end up affecting more than just mages."

"Alright. You should know something stirs within the mage fraternities," she begins, a frown of concern pulling her brows together. "The Libertarians wish to pull away from the Chantry entirely. And if they get enough support..." she trails off, shaking her head grimly.

"Pull away entirely?" Anders bursts out. "That's madness! I hate Chantry oversight as much as the next mage, but they can't just... decide to _leave_. This is a recipe for disaster."

"Well, it could turn out to be nothing," Wynne reminds us. "Maybe just... keep your ear to the ground anyway. Now, I have a great many preparations to make before I leave for Nevarra."

"I understand. I have things I need to do, myself," I admit. "It was good to see you again, Wynne."

"Indeed. Take care, my friend." She smiles and starts to leave, but turns as she reaches the steps. "Oh, before I go... How are you doing?"

I know exactly what she means by that. "Better, but it's a process, as you know."

"That it is," she agrees. "Goodbye, Zerahna."

"Goodbye, Wynne." We part ways, and I resume my path toward the chantry doors.

They're barely shut behind us before Anders shoots me a roguish grin. "Zerahna, huh?"

I sigh. "How did I know you would pick up on _that_? Yes, that's _technically_ my first name, but nobody except Wynne-and my father, when he's mad at me-calls me that. Last time my cousin tried it, I planted his face in the mud, so don't get any ideas. It's just Rahna. Or Commander."

Sigrun giggles. "I'd listen to her if I were you, Anders. She sounds like she means it."

"Of course I mean it," I huff, shooting her a teasing glare. "If we weren't so sodding far from Denerim, you could go ask Soris yourself. Now, I need to find those records, so if you three can behave yourselves...?"

Sigrun exchanges a look with Anders. "We can try..."

"...But no promises," he finishes.

"Speak for yourself, shem," Velanna snorts. "I have no plans to cause trouble in this place."

"_Thank_ you," I mutter as I head for the records shelves. It doesn't take long to find the records I'm looking for; the chantry's good about keeping things in order. According to what's available about this Darran Lyle, he lived on the outskirts of the city until his death. _I guess that's where we're heading, then..._ I shelve the record book and motion for the others to follow me. "Come on, let's go. After we track this down, I still need to sell some of this junk we picked up." I shift my pack to ride more evenly on my shoulders.

"Well, y'know, Rahna, if you didn't insist on picking up everything that might possibly be of value at some unknown point in the future, we might not have so much junk," Anders points out with a grin as we exit the chantry.

"Hey, I grew up in an Alienage," I remind him. "That's the way things work there. If something might be useful, you hang onto it, because you might not find another one. Besides, anything we don't use, we can sell, and that means more coin to sink into repairing the Vigil."

"I see. Well, where did this fellow live?"

"Just outside the city. Shouldn't take too long to check out."

"Well, point the way, fearless leader," he teases.

"Oh, you..." I make a face at him and lightly punch his arm before stomping off in a pretended huff toward the city gate.

**oOo**

Darran Lyle's discovery turns out to be a ring, and one that doesn't look like much, for that matter. "Anders, can you tell if there are any enchantments on this thing? Lyle made it sound pretty special in those notes I found." I hand it over to the mage.

A small burst of pale green magic flares from his fingers to surround the narrow band before he answers. "There are a couple, yes. They're meant to increase dexterity and cunning." He grins mischeiveously at me. "Just what you need."

"I swear, mage, I'm gonna hurt you..." I sigh in exasperation, snatching back the ring and sliding it on. "I wonder why he didn't sell it, or give it to someone, if it's so special."

"Maybe his methods for finding it were... not quite honest?" Sigrun offers. "And, you know, he didn't wanna explain where he got it or how."

"That's possible," I concede. "But I guess we'll never know for sure." This particular bit of curiosity as satisfied as it will ever be, I head back to the city to sell.

Sigrun's eyes light up as we approach a merchant's stall. "Oooh, fingers twitching... so much shiny..."

"See something you like?" I chuckle. "We can afford pretty much anything here."

Her eyes linger on a small snowglobe before she looks at me. "Don't worry, I'm not going to nick anything. Those days are behind me, Commander."

The dwarf tending the counter notices us and excuses himself from the noble who's browsing further down. "Afternoon, Commander."

I smile as I unsling my pack to start unloading all the things I have to sell. "Afternoon, Glassric. I have a whole lot for you this time." I didn't have much the last time I sold things to him to clear out space. This time's a different story.

"Let me see." He leans forward over the counter to see what I have. Sigrun helps me pull things out, as Anders and Velanna were distracted by the mage goods shop across the street.

"Oooh, what's this?" Sigrun stares at the spyglass, turning it over in her hands.

"That? Oh, that's a spyglass. We found it in the silverite mines, and Nathaniel said you might like it, that you'd mentioned someone in the Legion describing one to you."

"He was still listening?" She raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Great ancestors..." She giggles. "I think I'd been chattering at him for a good half hour before I mentioned that. I'm surprised he was paying attention by that point."

I chuckle as I hand over an armload of weapons and trinkets we don't need for Glassric to examine. "He does have a knack for that. Listening_ and _surprising people. Anyway, that's yours, if you want it."

"Of course I want it! It's so_ shiny_!" Her grin fades for a moment. "But... we're not supposed to have belongings in the Legion..."

"I won't tell," I whisper conspiratorally. "And Wardens _are_ allowed to have belongings."

She laughs. "Well, alright, then. Thank you, Commander."

"Make sure you thank Nathaniel when we drag him away from his sister," I grin, holding out my hand to take the coin Glassric hands me. When the dwarf turns her back to go harrass the mages, I motion at the snowglobe I saw her eye. "How much is that?"

"Six silver, Commander," the merchant replies, setting it on the counter so I can get a better look. I feel my heart squeeze as I examine the tiny figures inside. They're probably supposed to be Cailan and Anora, but at this scale, _Cailan_ looks very similar to _Alistair._

_Ah, the memories that brings back..._ The thought is heavy with sarcasm, because none of the memories are pleasant. But I paste on a smile to look back up at the merchant. "I'll take it." I pick out the silvers necessary from the handful of coin he just gave me. The snowglobe gets stowed in my pack, safely out of view before Sigrun abandons her harrassment of, well, mostly Velanna, from the look of it, to rejoin me.

"All done?" she asks cheerfully, watching me add the new coins to my money pouch.

"With him, yes. We still need food. And lyrium potions, we were low on those, too."

"I took care of that, Rahna," Anders interjects, his hands full of various sized vials of lyrium.

"Oh. Thank you. Can they go in your pack? I need to leave room in mine for food."

"Y'know, the food could go in mine," he points out.

"Oh, no. Not with that appetite of yours, ser mage," I tease. "No one else would get any if I let you carry the food."

"Rahna, my dear, you _wound_ me," he pouts, but there's a laugh dancing in his eyes that belies the hurt in his voice.

"Not yet I haven't," I threaten with a laugh. "But that may change if you don't hush."

"As you wish, _Commander_." He grins and dodges to the side when I take a swing at him.

"Mythal, it's like travelling with children," Velanna mutters, rolling her eyes at the two of us.

Much as I may not appreciate the comment, she does have a point. I'm acting more like a child than a Commander. Not the best example to be showing people. "Alright, alright, Velanna. I hear you. We're almost done here, don't worry."

"Thank the Creators..." Her exasperated tone sets Sigrun giggling uncontrollaby as we reach Master Henley's stall.

**oOo**

All told, by the time we finish all our errands and head back toward Delilah's house to get Nathaniel, the two of them have had a couple hours to talk. I hope it was enough. I don't know when we'll get another chance to come to the city.

"You remember which house is hers?" Anders asks.

"Think so," I reply, walking up to the house and knocking on the door.

It's only a few seconds before Delilah opens the door, smiling when she sees us. "I was figuring you'd be back soon. Come on in. Glad you were able to find the house."

"So am I," I chuckle as we step into the front room of the small house. "Anders would never have let me live it down if I couldn't."

She laughs, glancing at the mage. "He did strike me as the type." This comment earns her a cheeky grin and a half-bow from the mage in question, which makes her laugh again as she turns to get Nathaniel-only to almost bump into her brother.

"I heard," he explains, before she can open her mouth to ask.

"Ah." Delilah smiles. "Don't know why I'm surprised..." She shakes her head at herself before giving him a hug goodbye. "Take care of yourself, brother."

"And you do the same, Delilah," he returns, _almost_ smiling.

"I'll do m'best," she promises, laughing as she hugs him even tighter. "Goodbye, Nate."

"Goodbye, Delilah." Nathaniel's expression is somewhere between content and confused, which I'm hoping means Delilah spared no detail informing her big brother of what exactly their father _did_.

"We need to get going," I interject apologetically. "Varel's probably about to burst a blood vessel wonderin' where we are."

"Of course, Commander." Nathaniel nods understanding and follows as I make my way toward the door.

It flies open before we reach it, banging against the wall as it admits a young woman, her tousled wheat blonde hair tied back in a messy bun and her arms wrapped around a good sized crate full of vegetables. "Hey, Del, Mama had more extra than Pa rightly knows what t' do with; you want-" She stops dead when she sees us, her green eyes going wide as she nearly drops the crate, and turns bright pink to boot. "Oh, Maker save me, Del, I didn't know you was havin' company! 'M sorry! I'da knocked first."

Delilah laughs. "It's alright, Vi. _I_ didn't know I was having company, so how could you have known?"

The other woman's eyes dart over all of us, linger a second on Nathaniel, before she turns back to Delilah. "Awful lot of company to have unexpected like that," she comments tartly, shifting the crate to rest on one hip.

"They didn't all stay, Vi," Delilah explains with a sigh as Anders, Sigrun, and I all trade looks and _try_ our hardest not to laugh. This keeps up, I don't think we'll succeed. "Just him." She nods toward Nathaniel.

Vi flicks another brief glance at Nathaniel, eyes suspicious. "And he is...?"

"My _brother_, Vi, you sillyhead."

The blonde's eyes narrow. "But I thought Thomas-"

"Not him." Delilah cuts her off. "The _other_ brother. Nathaniel." She looks over our direction, notices me and Sigrun biting-hard-on our lower lips to keep from laughing, and that by now even Velanna's fighting a smile.

"_Oh_." Suspicions laid to rest, Vi grins at us-mostly Nathaniel-as if to make up for her unfriendliness. "Sorry 'bout that." She swipes stray wisps of hair out of her eyes.

Delilah laughs. "This is my best friend, Violet Henley-"

"Ev'rybody calls me Vi, though," she interjects, dropping the best curtsey she can balancing the crate of vegetables on her hip.

"Yes, everyone calls her Vi," Delilah agrees with a smile, darting a knowing look at her best friend before introducing the rest of us. I briefly wonder how she knows, but then figure Nathaniel must have told her. "They were just leaving, Vi. And they really need to get going. So why don't you bring those vegetables in the kitchen and I can see if there's anything I need, yes?" She tugs Violet toward the back of the house, wiggling her fingers in farewell before they disappear from view.

I can't help but notice Violet throws a look back over her shoulder, too. I chomp down on my lip even hard to fight back the smile that threatens as what was an easily dismissed thought settles into certainty.

That girl is sweet on Nathaniel. I'd swear to it. Call it a guess, call it woman's intuition, call it whatever the sod you like. _I _call it perhaps the most glorious revelation I've had in... well, since the first time Alistair said he loved me.

In order to make myself behave-for now, at least-I keep my mouth shut until we're out of the house, and then limit my questions to a single "So how'd it go?" as the others lag back, lost in a conversation of their own.

Nathaniel shrugs, rubs the back of his neck. "She wants me to come back, sometime when her husband is home and things aren't so... busy for us, meet him. She's... she's due by the spring. She seemed... _happy_," he finishes, sounding as if he's just witnessed the impossible.

"Is that really so hard to believe?" I ask, quickening my steps to keep up with him.

"Before I left for the Free Marches, I think I could have counted the number of times I heard her laugh on one hand," he admits. "But now she seems genuinely _happy_. She... She said Father _deserved_ to die."

I make a mental note to hug that woman the next time I see her. "What, you don't believe her?" _Your own sister? Really?_

He kicks a pebble and watches it skitter to the side before answering. "I thought he had his reasons! It was a _war_, for Andraste's sake!"

"You don't have to tell _me_ that, remember?" I shoot back, raking one hand through my hair. "I'm one of the ones he was trying to _kill_."

Nathaniel shakes his head and looks over me. "Before I went to the Free Marches he was never..." He sighs, looking..._lost_, for lack of a better word. "How could he have changed so much?" The question is little more than a whisper by the end, and I know he doesn't really want an answer. At least not from me.

"It's not your fault, Nathaniel," I remind him.

"What if I never left? I didn't have much choice, but still..." He's silent for a long moment, a silence I know better than to break, lost in thought. "What Delilah told me... I wish I'd known some of it sooner. I feel like such an absolute_ fool_."

I bite back the light-hearted retort that springs to mind far too easily. This conversation doesn't need a witty remark or snarky comment. "If you wanna talk..."

He shakes his head. "Not at the moment, Commander. Perhaps later."

"Alright. Up to you." I shrug and turn my attention back to the path, silently thanking the Maker for Delilah.

_A/N: *grin* Meet Violet. The words "couldn't resist" come to mind. xD *mad gigglefit* What-if anything-will come of this crush of hers... well, you'll just have to wait and see, yeah? I promise, cross m'heart and hope to die, I will try to keep her from being one of those self-insert Mary-Sue types. So far all we have in common is green eyes and a crush on a certain broody archer. I'm gonna try to keep it that way. Yell at me if I fail. Please._

_Other random note type stuff... I really do have an overpowering urge to hug Delilah at about this point in the game. And then usually start wondering exactly what she saw her father do... followed by deciding I probably don't want to know. If it was bad enough that an __**arl's daughter**__ is happier with the huge "step down" a merchant would be, social status wise, yeah... *shudder* We'll just leave that a mystery._


	32. Matters of the Heart

32. Matters of the Heart

We're out of the city, and almost back to the main road, when I remember that I still have Keenan's wedding ring in one of my belt pouches.

"Oh, sod it all," I mutter, spinning the gold band between my fingers. I stand there for a minute, debating whether I feel like looking for his wife right now, or if she'll just have to wait. But that would mean adding _another_ trip to Amaranthine to my to-do list, and I really don't want to do that. _I'll look in the tavern and the chantry. If I come up empty those two places, too bad for Keenan's wife._

So, with a sigh and mumbled apology to the others, I turn and head back to the city.

"Back so soon, Warden Commander?" Constable Aiden calls as we pass.

"Forgot something," I explain, smiling sheepishly as I step aside to let a red-haired dwarf past. She appears to be lost in thought, and doesn't look up until her shoulder bumps against Sigrun's.

"Oh, sorry about that, I-" she begins, and then her eyes narrow when she sees Sigrun's face. "Why, you ungrateful, back-stabbing duster!"

"Hey, _you_ bumped into her," I protest, crossing my arms and glaring at the dwarf.

"No, Commander, that's not it," Sigrun sighs.

"Name's Mischa," the red-haired dwarf explains, voice tense with anger. "I was a merchant until _she_ ruined me. I had her running errands. Trying to keep one duster out of trouble. I _thought_ I was doing a good deed. Then, I hear House Bemot's missin' a gold statuette of their Paragon. You want to guess where it shows up the next day?" She looks hard at Sigrun, who doesn't say anything. "_**My**__ shop_."

"Sigrun?" I look at the Legionnaire, hoping she has an explanation.

"I... I _tried_ to say no," she insists, voice full of pleading desperation. "Beraht said he'd kill you if I refused! He needed to get rid of it!"

"House Bemot could have had me _**executed**_!" Mischa yells at her. "You could have spoken up; told them the truth!"

"Then Beraht would have killed _**me**_!" Sigrun protests.

_Maker, this is getting out of hand_. "Whatever she may have been, or done, I trust Sigrun," I interject.

"I trusted her, too," Mischa snarls. "I need to deliever these skins to the tanner. Have to make a living somehow. Out of my way, brand." She pushes past Sigrun and disappears into the traffic of the merchant district.

Sigrun watches her go, eyes sad. "It's in the past," she sighs, as if reminding herself more than informing us. "We should move on, Commander."

"Of course." I resume course for the tavern, wanting to get this over with so we can go back to the Vigil.

**oOo**

The innkeeper must recognize me from the last time we were here, because when I ask if there's a woman named Nida staying here, he jerks his thumb toward the upstairs. "Room next t' Kristoff's. Woman's 'ad a lot o' comp'ny t'day," he mutters, returning his attention to straightening the bar.

I quirk an eyebrow at that as we head up the stairs. "Anders, which room was Kristoff's?" He's the only one out of our whole group who was up here before.

"That one," the mage replies, pointing at the closed door. "So Nida's must be... that one." He nods toward the open door next to Kristoff's room.

"Right. Let's get this over with," I mutter, not looking forward to this at all. I step forward and rap my knuckles against the doorframe. " 'Scuse me..."

The woman in the room isn't alone. There's a man with her, one she looks at after glancing in our direction. "Bran, I don't know this person."

"Is there something you want?" he demands, glowering at me. "My companion is not comfortable around strangers."

I ignore him. There's something in his manner that strikes me as far too similar to some of the more racist humans I've run into, and I really don't want to deal with all that right now. Instead, I look at her. "You're Nida? Keenan's wife?"

She nods. "Yes, I am Nida. Something has happened, hasn't it?" She bites her lip and looks imploringly at the man. "I... um, sweetheart, could you give us a moment alone?"

_Sweetheart? _My temper starts to rise at that one little word.

He looks less than thrilled with the idea, but nods and leaves.

Nida swallows hard and faces me again. "Is... is Keenan... dead?"

I nod, handing her the ring. "He wanted me to give you this."

She smiles sadly as she takes it. "His wedding ring. Thank you for bringing this back to me. Keenan always said he joined the Wardens to give me better life. Was it really better for me to be alone in a strange country? Wondering if we'd ever have a family?"

My blood is boiling by this point, and I'm in no mood to mince words. "You're cheating on him, aren't you?"

"He was gone for months at a time, often with no word," she protests, eyes full of guilt. "Was I supposed to wait forever?"

_Uh... yeah. That would have been ideal,_ I can't help but think.

"He forgets that I'm a living, breathing woman. I'm not just a symbol of something he's fighting for." She sighs. "Love can only take you so far."

"_Love can only take you so far_?" I repeat incredulously. "He was out there risking _everything_ for you, and you reward him by _**cheating**_ on him and excusing it with 'love can only take you so far'?" Fortunately-for both her and me-Nathaniel notices when my fingers instinctively curl into a fist and grabs my arm before I can do anything stupid, like punch her.

"Commander, I think our business here is done," he says quietly, grip firm on my upper arm and his voice carefully neutral. Which I know means he's as angry as I am, he's just choosing to hide it.

"It is," I confirm, shooting a parting glare at Nida before shaking my arm free and stalking out of the room. I have to resist the urge to slug Bran as I stomp past him toward the stairs. "Thanks," I mutter to Nathaniel once we're out of the tavern. "For not letting me hit her, I mean."

"It wouldn't reflect well on the Wardens if word got out our Commander was in the habit of hitting civilians. Even if they deserve it."

I laugh. "Even if," I agree. Business in the city finally concluded, we head back for the Vigil.

**oOo**

I can't make up my mind whether Velanna's suicidal, tactless, or just still pissed at Nathaniel for so thoroughly exasperating her back in the Wending Wood.

"You know, Nathaniel, now that I know a bit more about you, I have to say I'm surprised," the elf comments.

"Are you now?" he mutters, clearly wanting to be left alone.

_Maker, Nathaniel, just tell her to shut it. Someone needs to._

"Indeed. You not only gave up on killing the Grey Warden who murdered your father, you actually _joined_ the order?"

"Are you trying to pick a fight, Velanna?" the archer demands, sounding more than willing to oblige if she is. I'd almost like to see that. "Baiting me like this is juvenile."

"I was just wondering how you felt," Velanna returns, tone all false innocence.

"How do _you_ feel knowing you murdered all those people because you were too arrogant to check your facts?" Nathaniel shoots back, still sounding ticked.

"Warm and fuzzy," she retorts sweetly, almost smug.

Nathaniel sighs in annoyance. "You...are a terrible person. And your ears are clownish."

I clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing as Velanna gasps and I hear the soft slap of her hands flying to her ears. "What? Who's juvenile now?"

_You still are, for letting him score like that_, I can't help but think, grinning to myself as Nathaniel picks up the pace until he's walking with me and Sigrun rather than her.

The dwarf takes one look at his downright _stormy_ expression and grins at him. "C'mon, Nathaniel, cheer up. No one loves a grump."

I bite back a chuckle as he retorts, "For a dead woman you're remarkably perky."

"I can be less perky if you like," Sigrun offers. She clasps her hands together and presses them against her chest. " 'The darkness of the Deep Roads has seeped into my soul! The world is dead! My heart is black! Alas! Woe! _Woe_!' " She drops her hands and grins cheekily at the archer. "That better?"

Nathaniel rolls his eyes-probably praying for patience. "Let's... stick to perky."

"Thought so." Sigrun nods with satisfaction, dropping back to hassle the mages again.

"_That_ was entertaining," I murmur through a smirk as we hear Sigrun start in on Anders. "You_ really _know how to get to Velanna, don't you?"

He smiles slightly. "It's a talent."

"Next time, maybe just tell her to leave you alone. We do need to try to get along." I roll my eyes. "Even if she's one of the hardest to get along with individuals I've met in my life."

"Understood, Commander."

"That said, I have a feeling she'll avoid you for a while anyway."

"I hope you're right."

**oOo**

My prediction holds true the whole way back to the Vigil, much to mine and Nathaniel's shared relief. Much to my _chagrin_, however, the first words out of Varel's mouth following his greeting are that there are cases for me to pass judgment on.

"What?" I look at him in confusion.

"As arlessa, the right of high justice is yours," the seneschal explains patiently. "These are cases too serious to be settled by lower courts."

_Lovely. More politics. Just what I didn't need. Why do humans make everything so damned complicated?_ "Well, let's not waste any time then, I suppose," I sigh.

To my relief, most of the matters are actually rather simple to decide. The sheepherder who stole grain I allow to join the army, the promises Lady Liza wants upheld are-in my mind, at least-void considering they were made by a traitor. She's none too happy when I allow Ser Darren to keep his land, swearing to take the matter to Bann Esmerelle. _If you think I'm afraid of that shrivelled up prune of a woman, you are so wrong._

The only case that is the slightest bit knotty is Ser Temmerly the Ox. As his name implies, he's a big man with all the surly arrogance and superiority I've comes to expect from nobles. He's accused of murdering Ser Tamra, the woman who warned me of the conspiracy, as Varel reminds me.

_Maker, what a mess..._ There's no hard evidence-unless you count his attitude and _who_ he's accused of killing-but I tend to agree with Varel; if this man is innocent, I'm empress of Orlais. I'm already in a tenous position; an elven arlessa with a court full of disgruntled nobles. I can't execute a noble on such slim evidence, but I don't want to let a guilty man go free, either. A wicked grin curves my lips as I finally hit upon a solution. "Take him to the prison for the duration of our _very lengthy _investigation," I instruct Garevel.

"Of course, Commander," the guard captain acquiesces with a matching smile as he hauls off the blustering, protesting noble.

"You can't do this!" Ser Temmerly hollers as the guards drag him out of the throne room.

"Oh, but the Commander very much can," Varel replies coolly, fighting a smirk. He looks at me. "That's all for now, Commander."

"Thank the Maker," I sigh in relief. "Oh, I have another recruit to undergo the Joining, seneschal." I motion Velanna forward.

"Very well." He nods. "Shall we?"

**oOo**

After Velanna's Joining-which she survives-I decide we need a break. Just a couple days off, with no darkspawn fighting, or tramping all over the countryside, or chasing rumors, or anything else like that. We're staying here and getting some rest or whatever.

Needless to say, no one protests this decision. Everyone except Anders heads for their rooms. Anders edges toward the kitchen.

"Where d'you think you're goin'?" I ask, crossing my arms and fixing a mock glare across my face.

"C'mon, Rahna, Ser Pounce-a-lot is hungry," he protests, holding up the cat, who gives a pitiful mew.

"You sure it's only _Pounce_ that's hungry?" I tease, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, alright, I might be... a little..." he sighs. "Please?" Pounce lets out another pleading mew.

Looking at the two of them, all I can think is, _Sweet Andraste, how do I say no?_ I sigh and rub the cat's ears. "Fine. But only 'cause you're cute. And I mean the cat, Anders," I clarify.

He shrugs. "If it gets me food, I really don't care." And with that, mage and feline both vanish toward the kitchen.

All the talk about Pounce makes me think of something. "Oh, Varel?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Where's Fade?" I'm mildly surprised the mabari didn't tackle me and soak my face with slobber the second I walked through the gate.

"Oh, both the mabaris took to sleeping in the stable. I think they're out there now."

"Thank you, seneschal." I make a beeline for the stable and push open the door. "Fade? You in here, boy?" In response, I get bowled over by an over-eager blur of tawny fur and a long pink tongue. "Whoa! I missed you, too," I laugh, roughing his ears affectionately as he all but sits in my lap- sprawled in the dust as I am-and bathes my face. "Easy, boy. Where's your lady friend, huh?" As if she was waiting for me to ask, the female mabari from the Vigil basement trots over to say hello, her greeting much for reserved, as if she knows Fade's the only dog "allowed" to greet me so enthusiastically. "How you doin', honey?"

_Wuff_. Her stubby tail wriggles happily before her head snaps up. After sniffing the air for a few seconds, she gives a joyous bark and bolts toward the keep.

"Three soup bones says she winds up in Nathaniel's room," I mutter to Fade, who snorts and shoots me the dog equivalent of a 'duh' look. "C'mon, boy." I push to my feet and head for the courtyard. He follows me, circling once he finds a good spot before flopping down and shooting me an expectant look. "Alright, alright," I laugh. I sit down next to the mabari and lean back against his side, settling lower until I'm staring up at the sky with him as my pillow.

_This is the life,_ I decide, watching the clouds drift slowly across the sky. _Though I can't help but feel something's missing... _I shake my head and focus on simply enjoying this break.

**oOo**

I'm almost dozing by the time Anders finds me, but I still hear him coming. "Don't even think about it," I mumble sleepily.

"Think about what?" he asks innocently, sitting next to me-on the side with my good eye, I can't help but notice-and letting Pounce wander off.

"I dunno." I crack open my eye to look at him. "Whatever you were planning to do to me."

"Well, since all I was going to do was keep you company, does that mean I should leave?" he teases.

"No. Company's fine. Wanna share my mabari pillow?"

He laughs, leaning back on his elbows. "No, thanks. I'm not much of a dog person."

"Oh. 'Kay." We both are silent for several minutes, just watching the clouds.

"So, what would you do if you didn't have to be a Grey Warden?" Anders asks lazily, looking up at the sky.

I push up to a sitting position before commenting, "Odd question to ask out of the blue."

"Is it?" He shoots me a curious look. "You've never thought about it? Doesn't anyone ever leave the Wardens?"

"Even if you leave, you're still tainted," I point out. "And the nightmares and appetite wouldn't go away, but I suppose you_ could _leave, if you really wanted to."

"Ah. Now, _Commander_, answer my question."

I laugh. "I honestly don't know. If you'd asked me a year ago, I'd be reeling off a list as long as my arm. But now..." I sigh, tug at the grass between my boots. "Without Alistair, I really don't know. Probably go to Antiva, see if I could track down Zev and help him with taking down the Crows. Followed by adventuring around Thedas."

"That sure sounded like you know," Anders teases. "Antiva, huh?"

"To help a friend," I clarify, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Not out of any personal desire to see the place."

"I see," he chuckles.

"What about you, ser mage? What would_ you _do if you weren't a Warden?" My hand slides idly over Fade's head, fingers digging in to the fur between his ears as I ask.

"Run off to Llomeryn, probably. Or maybe tag along with you, if you'd have me."

"Hmm, I'll have to think about that," I tease.

Anders laughs. "May I point out that you're alright?"

I shoot him an amused smile. "I'm 'alright'?"

"And remarkably lovely, if I'm allowed to say," he adds.

I feel my face heat up. "I... you are."

"Y'know, you're adorable when you blush like that." He grins at me cheekily.

I punch him in the arm. "Anders!"

"What? You _are_." That damned grin of his only widens.

"Knock it off." I bite my lip. _Now's as good a time as any..._ "I need to ask you something."

"Oh?" He cocks his head and raises one eyebrow. "Sounds like something serious."

"It is. This... flirting thing between us; are you really interested or is that just how you talk to women?"

"Um... both?" he offers, expression somewhere between teasing and trapped.

"Anders, I just wanna know if I need to ignore or indulge the jealousy I feel when you flirt with Velanna."

"I don't know, Rahna," he sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows against his knees. "I mean, you started that with the pretty girl comment outside the city, and I've just... gone along with it."

"_I_ started it?" I give him a dubious look. "The words 'pretty and pragmatic' sound familiar to you? _You_ started it."

"Fair enough." He shrugs. "I'd forgotten about that, honestly."

"So..." I twirl a loose wisp of hair nervously as I meet his eyes. "Now what?"

Anders chuckles and tucks back the lock of hair my fingers are twisting. "Well, I'd say that's up to you, yes?" he whispers, leaning toward me in a motion I instinctively mimic.

_Sweet Maker, what am I doing? _"I guess so," I murmur, just before our lips meet.

_A/N: *maniacal cackling* I am an evil, evil woman. I freely admit it. But that was too fun. And the chapter's getting kinda long, anyway. You'll just have to wait for reactions(I promise nothing...). *innocent grin* Problem?_

_Other stuff... I had to-__**had to**__-include the "No one loves a grump" banter. That is possibly my favorite one in the entire game. And we have more on the still unnamed female mabari... She'll probably have a name next time she shows up. And I really wish I could draw... I would so draw Rahna using Fade as a pillow, or getting a face bath, because both images are rather firmly lodged in my brain. =D And now... *flees for her life*_


	33. Yours

33. Yours

_He tastes like apples,_ is the only thought I'm consciously aware of having as Anders' hand slides around the back of my neck.

The kiss is entirely mutual, curious on both parts, and just long enough for me to wonder whether to be giddy or guilty for what it makes me feel.

Nothing.

It's been almost eight months since I've kissed a man-not counting my drunken whatever-it-was with Zev-but still, I remember how kissing Alistair seemed to kindle a fire in my chest and spin the world in circles. I'm not feeling anything like that now. Not even the faintest spark or smallest wobble. _Oh, sod..._ Things are about to get very, _very_ awkward.

Anders pulls back first and looks at me, his eyes guarded. "Well?"

I sigh, give him an apologetic smile, and mutter, "Nothin'."

The guarded look melts out of his eyes. "Me, neither," he admits, almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're kidding." I can't help but giggle. We've spent all this time flirting and then there's _nothing_ for _either_ of us when we finally kiss? Just me I could understand; guilt about Alistair and all, but _both _of us feeling _nothing_? "That's... unexpected. To say the least."

"Tell me about it," Anders chuckles. "So... now what?"

I'm already trying to figure that out. "Now I can stop getting stomachaches every time you flirt with someone else, for starters."

"That can only be a good thing," Anders agrees.

"And I'm still gonna tease you mercilessly," I warn.

"Likewise," he shoots back, grinning as he roughs my hairs.

"Anders!" I yelp, giving him a playful shove. Fade gives me a look as if he's wondering what I'm doing and warning me to behave myself.

"You love it, admit it," Anders accuses with a laugh.

I sigh in exasperation, but have to concede the point. "Fine. You're right, I do."

"And _that's_ why I'll never stop." He tugs on one of my pigtails.

"Rat." I retaliate in kind, giving his ponytail a decent yank.

"Ow!" he yelps. "So, we're okay?"

I nod. "We are."

"Good, 'cause I was kind of worried you'd refuse to feed me or something."

"Oh, you..." I shake my head at him as I stand. "I need to talk to Sigrun. If she's not sleeping."

"Alright, then. I'll... just go find my cat." He pushes to his feet and wanders off across the courtyard while I go in search of Sigrun.

**oOo**

The dwarf is in the library, scanning the shelves of books so fast I don't think she's really seeing them.

"You alright?" I ask, leaning against the wall. "Mischa was pretty harsh."

"But I deserved it," Sigrun mutters, absently cracking her knuckles. "I'm a no-good duster, a lying, rotten thief. And she still _tried_, you know? She caught me stealing a leg of roast nug, and instead of ratting me out to the storekeeper, she paid for it. Said the reason casteless turn to crime is we're not given options. Gave me a job in her shop the next day. I'd only had it a few months when Beraht handed me the statuette and told me to plant it in her shop." She tugs her pigtails, looking wistful. "I didn't want to. Ancestors, I really tried to think of a way out, you know? But in the end, I did it. And then kept my mouth shut when House Bemot found the statuette. I've never felt so much like scum in my life, Commander."

"You're not the person you used to be," I point out.

She nods. "I know. The Legion changes people. I just wish... there was something I could do or say, or something to show Mischa that I'm sorry."

"If you want, we can try to find her if we ever have to go back to Amaranthine."

"Could we?" Her eyes shine hopefully.

"I don't know when-or even _if-_we will, Sigrun," I warn her. "But if we find ourselves in Amaranthine again, we can look for Mischa."

"That's good enough for me, Commander," she smiles. "Oh, by the way, Anders was looking for you a little bit ago. Did he find you?"

I nod, fighting a wry smirk. "He did. Thank you."

"If I'm allowed to ask, what's going on between you two?" Sigrun crosses the room and leans against the back of a chair so she's facing me.

I chuckle. "Nothing, anymore. Just friends."

" 'Anymore'?" One of the dwarf's eyebrows rises almost to her hairline.

"He... I... Oh, sod it," I sigh, raking one hand through my hair and cursing my word choice. "We kissed. Just a few minutes ago, I mean," I confess, feeling my face go scarlet as she grins. "And neither of us felt anything, so apparently I'm not as ready to move on as I thought I was."

"Or maybe he's just not the right one," Sigrun points out.

"Good point," I concede, rubbing the back of my neck. "Why does life have to be so complicated?"

"I ever figure that out, you'll be the first one I tell," Sigrun laughs.

**oOo**

"Since she likes you so much, you get to name her," I tease, crossing my arms as I lean against the doorframe to Nathaniel's room.

"What?" He turns from the window, shooting me a confused look.

"The mabari," I explain with a laugh, nodding toward the dog curled up in the middle of his bed, one paw dangling over the edge and the other tucked under her chin. "Since she's apparently decided to imprint on you, you get to name her. Unless..." I hesitate. "Was she here before you left? Does she already have a name?"

He shakes his head, crossing to sit next to the mabari, who immediately rests her head on his leg and looks up at him as if begging for attention. "No, Adria must have bought her after I was in the Free Marches." He acquiesces to the dog's silent plea and scratches between her ears. This action earns him a long, low groan of pleasure from the mabari, who promptly rolls over for a belly rub. Nathaniel chuckles softly and obliges.

"Well, then. She's yours now, so the name's your responsibility," I grin. "I'm sure Anders'll help you if you're stuck."

"I'll pass, thanks," he mutters, hand buried deep in her fur.

"Don't worry, honey," I croon at the mabari, kneeling on the trunk at the end of the bed to scratch her belly as well. "I'm sure he's better at names than I am."

Her stubby tail thumps against the bed.

"Actually, that might be perfect," Nathaniel comments, half under his breath.

"What might be?" I look up from scratching the dog's belly.

"Honey."

"You wanna name a mabari war hound 'Honey'?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Not all mabari are war dogs, Commander. Adria probably acquired her to just be a pet. And do you honestly think it doesn't suit her?"

"Well, alright... she's your dog." I have to admit, given her disposition and all, Honey really is a good name. "See? I told he's better at this than me."

Honey lets out an impatient huff, pawing at Nathaniel's arm when he pauses in rubbing her belly.

I laugh, abandoning my perch on the trunk after giving her a final scratch. "Well, I think your dog's tired of sharing, so I'll be going now."

I'm almost out the door before Nathaniel speaks up. "Commander, wait."

"Yeah?" I turn back around, twirling the end of one pigtail.

"I... I owe you an apology." Despite the slight hesitation, he doesn't seem at all unsure or nervous.

I wave him off, or try to. "No need, it's fine."

He shakes his head. "There is a need. It's not fine. When I returned from the Free Marches, I was certain my family was destroyed for being on the wrong side of the war." He pauses, sighs. I know this _has_ to be hard for him. "But my father did it to himself. No conspiracies, no plots, just one stupid, selfish man. I should have known better."

"I'm sure your father had his good side." _So long ago no one but you appears to remember it, but still..._

He did," Nathaniel nods. "Once. But that doesn't excuse his actions." He sighs again. "I was an idiot, and like a child I blamed you and the Wardens." A wry smile pulls at one side of his mouth. "Mostly you."

"I get that a lot," I quip.

"And yet you've still proven to be a friend, of sorts. Or am I reading that wrong, too?"

"You kidding?" I grin. "Of course I want to be friends."

The relieved smile I get for that is one of the most genuine I've seen from him. "Good. I'll let you be on your way, then, Commander."

"Y'know, Nathaniel, if we're friends, you are allowed to use my name, not just my title," I tease, already knowing the chances of that happening often.

He gives a small, soft laugh for that. "Noted, C-_ Rahna_."

"Pet your dog. She's looking desperate," I chuckle as I leave.

**oOo**

I can hear the sound of an argument as I near the throne room, but only recognize one of the voices, at least at first. "Damn it all, Oghren, what now?" I mutter, increasing my pace, only to skid to a halt at the edge of the room when I see who the berserker is arguing with. _What in the Maker's name is Felsi doing here?_

I'm just in time to hear her yell at Oghren. "...We were _role-playing_!"

_Oh, Andraste's frilly underthings, I'm not listening! I'm __**not**__! La la la la..._ My hands start toward my ears, but the two dwarves veer away from that topic with Oghren's protest that she kicked him out, so I let my hands fall back to my sides.

"You were just looking for an excuse," Felsi accuses, arms crossed.

"You kept tryin' to make me into somethin' I'm not," Oghren retorts. "I can't just... play house like you want me to." Some of the fight seems to leave him, and he sounds tired as he concludes, "I'm only good at one thing, Fels, and it's killing."

I lean against the wall, deciding it's best to let them work this out themselves. Fade noses my hand as he pads out of the hallway's shadows, but I still him with a scratch between the ears.

"You had a good thing in the army. They _respected_ you, Oghren," Felsi points out.

Oghren sighs. "Look, Felsi, I finally got the ol' conker on straight and realized I don't belong anywhere but here."

She scowls. "Fine, Oghren. If that's what you want. I guess the baby and I will just have to get by without you."

_Baby? _I straighten at that; a thought harder to wrap my mind around than any I've had maybe ever. _Oghren's a father?_

Having fired her parting shot, Felsi turns and storms out of the keep. Oghren watches her go, grumbling under his breath.

"Aren't you going to go after her?" I ask, pushing off the wall and crossing to join him.

Oghren scoffs. "Nah. I'd just end up bein' hit. She's a tiny thing, but she packs a surprising wallop, and in this mood, she'd go straight for m'danglers."

"Well, in that case, how 'bout you fill me in on being a father?" I raise my hands in protest when he gives me the evil eye. "Not every little detail; just things like girl or boy and the name?"

"Sod it... Fine," he grunts. "Girl. Named her Zara."

"Ooh, I like that. Where'd you come up with it?"

"Somethin' Felsi pulled from me tryin' to say your name while even drunker 'n usual, Commander."

I run it through my head a few times; the similarities between Zara and Zerahna, and, knowing how drunk Oghren can get, have to admit it is close enough to see. "Okay, then. My curiosity is sated, and I'll leave you alone. For now, at least."

Thanks, Commander," he mutters, wandering off toward the ale cask in the corner. I can't help but feel a little bit sorry for him.

"C'mon, boy," I murmur to Fade, heading for my room. I want a proper nap. One that's not interrupted by blond, cat-loving mages and kisses and a whole sodding mess of confusion. Upon reaching my room, I peel off my armor, pile it semi-neatly in the corner, and tumble across the bed, not even bothering with the blanket.

Fade jumps up behind me, possessively resting his head on my back.

"If you drool on me, I will not feed you dinner," I warn sleepily, smiling as the mabari's warmth seeps through my tunic.

He whines and shoot me a sad look.

"Nope. Not falling for it. Just don't drool." I snuggle into my pillow and promptly fall asleep.

**oOo**

_"I blame you, you know," I jokingly inform Alistair when I finally pull back from the hello kiss he offers._

_ "Blame me for what, exactly?"_

_ "That whole... whatever-it-was with Anders. You're the one who suggested to me that maybe he liked me." I tilt my head back further to grin up at the warrior who's holding me close. "He didn't feel anything more than I did, or I probably would have died from embarrassment on the spot."_

_ "You? Die of embarrassment? Really, love, I've seen you survive much worse." Alistair traces one finger lightly down the scar on my face. "Much, __**much**__ worse."_

_ "Still. It would have been bloody awkward," I mutter. _

_ "Sorry, Rahna. I'm just calling things as I see them. I thought there might be something between you, so I commented on it."_

_ "I see. Well, since there __**wasn't**__ anything, I guess I'm still yours a while longer."_

_ "Rahna..." he shifts uncomfortably._

_ "Don't lecture me about moving on. Just don't." I sigh. "I'm trying, alright? It's harder than it looks. And I don't need a lecture from a dream about how this is unhealthy and I need to let you go and all that. I can't yet, not entirely."_

_ "And that's alright," he whispers. "Just... be willing to let go when the right time comes?"_

_ "I'll try," I murmur back, pushing up for a kiss._

**oOo**

When I wake up, Fade's shifted to the point he's completely across me. I chuckle and roll over to scratch his ears.

"Hey, boy," I mumble sleepily. His rear end wiggles happily, even though his eyes stay closed. I chuckle. "You're enjoying this as much as I am, aren't you, boy?"

_Wrff._ The sound is sleepy and content, so I decide we'll just stay here a while longer.

_A/N: So... *cough* Don't kill me, please. Two things happened when I wrote the kiss. A) Rahna decided IF she's going to move on, it's not gonna be Anders. And B) Three of my Hawkes all started yelling at me. See, I've been trying to figure out which one to use for 'canon' with Rahna, and the top three contenders all romanced Anders. Sooo, to avoid that drama down the road, things got ended before they really got started. The idea actually came from 27 Dresses, to be honest. There's a point at the end when the main character kisses the man she's had a crush on for ages and neither of them feel anything. I decided to use that for Rahna and Anders... and there ya go. Also, I was thinking about switching to a Gabriel/Jowan&Miri chapter in between, but decided this... resolution didn't make as much sense if it wasn't immediately following. So you'll get them next week. I think._

_ Also, all the mabari love in this chapter... I may or may not have been inspired by the irresistable chocolate eyes of the most adorable Lab in the world(aka my dog) staring up at me from my lap the majority of my writing time. I hope I can work Honey into later chapters(preferably in a non-sad way). I've already gotten attached to her._

_ Ooh, and about Oghren's kid... Zara means princess. =)_


	34. Very Much Alright

34. Very Much Alright

The swords collided with a sharp ringing noise, the blades scraping together until their near-matching hilts were locked, the warriors who held them both straining to prove themselves the stronger.

The taller of the two succeeded after a few second's struggle, as Gabriel had known he would do.

"Remember to keep your guard up," he hollered, the warning meant for both combatants. It was a split-second too late for taller warrior, however, as proving his strength superior led to a moment's overconfidence, which his dwarven opponent used against him, charging forward so a heavily-armored shoulder pounded into his unguarded ribcage and landed the man on the ground.

"Damn it all, Syn, what's it take to beat you?" the dark-haired warrior groaned through a rueful smile as he used his greatsword to pull himself off the ground.

"More concentration," Syn and Gabriel replied in unison.

Gabriel chuckled. "I'm glad at least one of you has been paying attention." The two were currently the only new recruits he had to train; Aimon was a former chevalier from Val Royeaux, and Syn, a dwarf from Orzammar. Beyond that... well, Aimon was more open about his past than Syn, which had everyone wondering and whispering what she'd done. It was obvious from the way she carried herself she was of noble descent; Gabriel had picked up on that the moment she walked in the Warden base. Anything more was a mystery.

"Of course I pay attention," Syn laughed. "The darkspawn aren't as obliging as Aimon is. Though they may be less persistant. What is that, the eighth time you've tried to beat me, salroka?"

"Don't flatter yourself, _mon ami_," Aimon retorted, smiling sheepishly. "Seventh. And_ tried_? I have beaten you before."

"Alright, you two, that's enough," Gabriel intervened, grinning. "I'm glad you get along so well, but let's keep our attention on the task at hand, no?"

"Of course, Senior Warden." Syn gave her muddy-brown ponytail a tug to make sure it was still secure and regripped her two-handed sword. Aimon matched her ready stance. The two looked to Gabriel for the signal to start.

"Ready?"

"Ready!" the two responded as one.

"Then begin." Gabriel leaned against the fence surrounding the practice ring as he watched the two go at it, noting with a grin that Aimon was much more careful to guard himself when he gained the upper hand. As a result, this time it was Syn who found herself sprawled in the dust, hair falling across her face, and a self-deprecating laugh ringing from her lips as she yielded to Aimon.

"Amateurs," a familiar voice laughed behind Gabriel. "We should show them how it's done, my friend."

The red-haired elf turned, one eyebrow quirking in surprise. "Kiv? What in the Maker's name are you doing here?"

"Hello to you, too, Gabriel," Kiv grinned, his eyes once again on the pair in the ring. "Delivering a message."

"Must be a very important message, no? If they had to use a Warden to send it."

The other elf nodded. "I believe it is, actually. For they used _two_ Wardens; me and some Orlesian fellow with a mustache. Can't remember his name. Now, I was serious about showing these two how it's done. You up to a match, ser Andras?"

"What, so you can land me on my arse again, ser Marrin?" Gabriel shot back.

"Well... yes, I was rather hoping that would be the result," Kiv grinned.

"Bastard," Gabriel muttered under his breath, nevertheless grinning as well. "You know it will be. You just want to show off."

"Someone has to show them how it's done. Why not us? Provided teaching hasn't made you soft?" Kiv teased.

Gabriel snorted. "Ach, fine. You win. Even if I know how this will end, I cannot refuse a challenge like that." He turned to the two warriors, now looking in his direction. "Clear the ring you two!"

Aimon and Syn both darted for the rails in obedience, still casting curious looks at their instructor and his darker-complexioned friend as they abandoned the ring.

"This is Kiv Marrin," Gabriel explained, "Grey Warden of Weisshaupt, a good friend, and the only person who routinely kicks my arse. He thinks teaching has made me soft, and I need to show him otherwise, no?"

Aimon and Syn exchanged a grin and put aside their swords, settling in to watch the two elves fight.

**oOo**

It only took five sodding _seconds_ into the fight to remind Gabriel why he hadn't missed fighting the uncannily stealthy rogue. Kiv wasted no time pulling one of his vanishing tricks, appearing quite literally out of nowhere to hammer both his swords against Gabriel's shield, which the warrior barely managed to get up in time.

"You've slowed down," Kiv ribbed, disengaging backing off just far enough to start circling.

"So have you," Gabriel shot back, pivoting to track his opponent.

"You wound me, Gabriel, my friend," Kiv laughed. "Save your breath for fighting."

"I could say the same," Gabriel grunted, lashing out at the wiry elf with his shield.

Kiv twisted to the side, turning his dodge almost effortlessly into an attack that passed too close to Gabriel's head for comfort.

The redhead winced and retaliated. His strike hit nothing but air, which he'd expected, as Kiv dodged sideways again, which he'd also expected. His shield hit the Rivaini in the shoulder, throwing Kiv off-balance. Only for a moment, but in that moment, Gabriel followed the initial hit with two more.

It was when he went for a fourth that Kiv spun to the side, letting Gabriel's momentum carry him past.

_Just like Rahna did..._ the warrior thought ruefully. _You'd think I would have learned by now,_ he scolded himself as he wheeled just in time to defend himself.

The two of them stayed at it, neither holding back in the slightest, but it ended as Gabriel had known it would; with him flat on his back and Kiv's swords leveled across his throat.

"You win," he sighed, letting his head fall back in the dust. "Again."

"That was a good match, Gabriel," Kiv chuckled as he sheathed his swords and offered a hand up. "I take back my opinion that teaching has made you soft."

"Of course you do," Gabriel snorted. "You only said it to get me to fight you."

Kiv shrugged. "It worked didn't it?"

"That it did," Gabriel admitted as he regained his feet. "Ow." He rolled his shoulder, feeling the muscles complain from the severe wrenching it had gotten toward the end.

"Oh, and Miri isn't here to kiss it better," Kiv teased. "She's... where is she again?"

"Free Marches," Gabriel reminded his friend. "And I'm sure Clera will be just as capable of healing this as Miri."

"Maybe so, but you won't enjoy it half so much," the other elf retorted.

"Now that is true," the warrior was forced to admit, thoughts wandering to his lover. _Maker, I do miss her. Hope she's doing alright..._

**oOo**

If 'alright' could be loosely taken to mean dirty, tired, hungry, and currently feeling rather annoyed with her best friend, Miri would have assured him she was very much alright. Of course, part of the reason she was annoyed was _because_ she was dirty, tired, and hungry. Halfway back to the Warden's fortress, the group had discovered part of a tunnel had collapsed behind them. Since Ashe hadn't yet regained enough of her strength to be much help, Miri and Jowan had helped Vincent clear away the mess of rocks. It had never been more abundantly clear to Miri how utterly useless she was at anything other than magic. Some of the rocks were almost as big as she was and took a combined effort from both men to move them. Miri did her best, but Vincent and Jowan still did most of the work.

Her irritation at being so little help was probably why she snapped at Jowan when they stopped for the night. "Maker's breath, you're not still moping are you?"

"What?" Jowan shot her a puzzled look.

"You've been quiet-and I mean quiet even for you-all day long. 'Sides, I know you better than anyone. You're not still moping about the blood magic are you?"

"No!" Jowan protested. "But even if I was, Mir, think about it; last time I used blood magic, I completely _ruined_ my life! And yours, too. Forgive me if I'm a little slow to accept the argument that the Wardens don't care."

"First, considering I wouldn't have met Gabriel if not for...what you did, I don't think I'd say you ruined my life," Miri retorted. "Made it extremely unpleasant for a while, yes. Ruined, not so much. Second, I didn't have to help you, remember. So it's just as much my own doing."

"Miri, I asked you because I knew you wouldn't say no. You _never_ said no," Jowan mumbled guiltily.

"But I could have," she agrued, noticing out of the corner of her eye how Vincent and Ashe were trying not to eavesdrop, but the confines of the tunnel made that rather difficult. "I could have told you no, I could have told Irving or Greagoir what you were planning." A guilty memory of her own nibbled at the elf's mind but she shoved it away. "I didn't. I _helped you_ because I _wanted to_. And y'know what? I wouldn't have been as bothered by the blood magic as I was by the fact you_ lied to me_." She took a deep breath, tried to rein in her temper before she said something she'd regret for a long time. She'd already seen something that looked a lot like hurt flicker in Jowan's eyes.

"Really?"

"Maker's breath, don't sound so surprised," she mumbled.

"Most people would consider blood magic worse than lying," Jowan pointed out.

"Why? Because the Chantry says it's wrong? The same Chantry that says magic is a curse and mages are ultimately responsible for all the evil in the world?" Miri raised an eyebrow. "They're obviously wrong about some things, so who says they're right about that? And if they _are_ wrong, what reason do you have to mope?"

"I'm not moping!"

"Moping, brooding, whatever you want to call it, you're bein' all moody 'cause of using blood magic again, and I'm just sayin' maybe you don't need to be."

He muttered something she didn't catch, staring at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck.

"What was that?" she scooted closer, thinking she could make a pretty good guess.

Jowan sighed and looked up at her. "Rahna doesn't really like blood magic."

_Rahna, huh?_ Miri swallowed her grin. "Oh?"

He nodded. "And if you add that to what happened with Lily, I just... I don't know if I'll ever be able to really accept that blood magic's not... bad."

"I understand that. I just want you to think about it from both sides," she explained. Miri barely got the words out before yawning so widely she heard her jaw pop. "Well, I guess that's my cue to get some sleep..."

Jowan chuckled at that. " 'Night, Mir."

**oOo**

Unfortunately, sleep proved elusive for all of them that night, and even the rest of the return trip, as the tunnel would occassionally let out an alarming groan and sounded as if it was about to come down on their heads. Thus it was a very grumpy and sleep-deprived group that made their way into the fortress a few days later. Vincent made sure to get his sister to the infirmary-despite her protests-before heading to his room, already fumbling with the buckles on his armor. Miri and Jowan just made beelines for their rooms and collapsed into bed.

It was late the next morning by the time Jowan dragged himself awake, his increasingly nagging hunger refusing to let him sleep. _Wonder of wonders, it wasn't Miri armed with a pillow this time,_ he thought with a wry smile as he pushed off the bed and raked one hand through his hair.

It was as he redid his ponytail and turned toward the door that something caught the mage's eye. Jowan frowned at the small, travelstained envelope sitting on the bedside table and addressed to him. _Now who's that from?_ The handwriting was hardly neat; sprawling across almost the entire space. Of course, the pool of suspects was limited, but still...

His stomach let out another insistent growl. "Alright, alright," Jowan muttered, setting down the letter. That mystery could wait until after he'd eaten.

**oOo**

_Dear Jowan,_

_ I told you so. There, I said it. You worry too much, you know that? And you're also a rat. You better keep the stories about me to a minimum, and away from anything embarrassing, or I __**will**__ make you regret it. You know how I feel about the whole hero thing. You also know being my friend won't save you from getting whacked on the head if you get on my nerves._

_ Of course, even if I __**did**__ feel the need to hit you for some reason the next time I see you, I'd probably follow it with a hug. I miss you. Maybe it's just wanting to have someone around who's known me the past few months, because at this point, I'd give my right arm to have you and Zev here. I mean, one of my new Wardens is someone I knew from when I was fighting the Blight, but it's not the same. I think you and Zev know me better than anyone at the moment._

_ Amaranthine hasn't been bad. At least not so far. It would be better without the politics. Maker, I'd rather deal with darkspawn than nobles. Darkspawn I can just kill. And they don't say one thing while their eyes convey a wondering how an elf ended up as arlessa. I did, however, make it through an entire ceremony without panicking or anything else embarrassing like that. I'm rather proud of myself for that._

_ I hope the Free Marches stay not as bad as you were anticipating. And I guess that's all for now, but I'm on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. I probably forgot something important... Damn. I need sleep._

_ Your friend,_

_ Rahna_

**oOo**

He had to chuckle. Aside from the _horrible_ handwriting, the tone of the letter was so very _Rahna_, he could almost hear her. "Maker's breath, I miss you, Rahna," Jowan muttered, making a mental note to write back before returning the letter to the bedside table so he could change out of the sweaty, dirt-streaked clothes he'd been wearing for longer than he really wanted to think about.

Someone knocked on the door as he was reaching for a clean shirt. "Who is it?"

"It's me."

Jowan grinned. "You can come in, Miri," he called, raising one eyebrow as his friend opened the door almost hesitantly. "Alright, what's wrong? I seem to remember you not even knocking last time. And now you look like _you're_ moping," he teased upon catching sight of her worried expression.

"I... Maker, Jowan, where'd those come from?" she interrupted herself.

"Where'd what- Oh. Those." He rolled his shoulders as Miri stared at the scars on his back. "Remember when I told you about what happened in Redcliffe?"

She nodded.

"I may have... glazed over a few things. Like the arlessa having me tortured." He sighed as Miri bit her lip. "Miri, I deserved every single one of those." He pulled on his shirt. "But I'm sure that's not what you came here to talk to me about. What's wrong?"

"I have a confession to make," Miri mumbled as she plunked down on the edge of his bed. "Something that's been bothering me since the Deep Roads."

"Alright..." Jowan sat next to her. "And that is?"

She was silent for a long moment before finally blurting out, "I was going to tell Irving."

"What?" Jowan stared at Miri, certain he'd heard her wrong.

His friend took a deep, shaky breath. "When you asked me to help destroy your phylactery. I came within a hairs-breadth of telling Irving."

"Why?" Part of him felt hurt, but didn't last long against a reminder of what _he_had done to _her_.

"Because I'd always been a good little mage," she burst out, "Always done what Irving expected me to do, and I knew what he would expect me to do about...your plan. So I was going to tell him."

"Why didn't you?"

"Why did my loyalty to my best friend win over my loyalty to the Circle?" She gave him a sad smile. "I...I couldn't believe they would _actually _do the Rite on you, so I asked him first. He knew about you and Lily, figured she'd told you. He confirmed that they were actually going to do it. I asked him why, and he said Greagoir had proof-and eyewitness testimony-that you were...practicing blood magic. I didn't believe him." She stared straight into Jowan's eyes. "I _wouldn't_ believe him."

He flushed. "Miri-"

She covered his mouth with one dark hand. "Let me finish. I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head; Greagoir must have made it up because he hates mages. Irving scolded me for talking about him like that, but at the time, that made a whole sodding lot more sense than the idea of you being a blood mage."

He felt worse the more she said. "Miri, I'm-"

"Almost done, just let me finish," Miri scolded, elbowing him teasingly in the ribs. "I told him letting Greagoir 'get away with this' was wrong and stomped out without telling him what you had planned. I didn't say a word about it. I figured if he wasn't even going to try to help you, then_ I _had to." She knotted her hands together in her lap. "Now I'm done."

"Well, um...can I just tell you I feel like slime right now?"

She chuckled. "You can."

"And that I'm really, truly sorry?"

"Well, you already said that, and I forgave you, so do you really need to say it again?"

"I think I owe you about an apology a day for the rest of my life."

She outright laughed at that. "I'll settle for a promise you won't ever do anything like that again."

"What, promise I won't lie to and betray the only people that really matter to me?" He pretended to think about that for a minute. "I think I can do that."

"Good." Miri grinned deviously. "So, tell me more about Rahna."

"Like what, exactly?"

"Like when didja start falling for her?"

He couldn't think of any better response than to just stare at her, completely speechless except for a half-strangled, "What?"

_A/N: Sooo... whether Miri's really perceptive or just seeing something that ain't there, you'll have to wait and find out later(mostly cuz I don't know myself just yet). And I did engage in a very loooong debate with the Miri-muse about leaving that in there, but-as you can see-she won. =) And, look, Gabriel! AND Kiv! I will admit to throwing Kiv in there just cuz I love him and wanted to write him more. xD_

_ About Syn using 'salroka'(which you only hear from castless in-game I think), the DA Wiki said it's usually used by casteless, but not exclusive to them, so I had her use it. I think I'll be flashing back to Gabriel/Miri&Jowan not too much further down the road; I have some interesting ideas for them. Oy... Absence is totally going to wind up longer than Aftermath._


	35. Sure About That

35. Sure About That

I should have known things wouldn't-couldn't-stay quiet and uncomplicated for long. They never do around me. Even as I stare at the ceiling and enjoy the near-silence of my room, Fade's head resting on my stomach, I hear the guards at the gate let out a cry that someone's coming.

I roll my eyes before looking toward the mabari who's currently enjoying an ear scratch. "Sorry, boy. I need to get up."

He whines, flattening back his ears and giving me a mournful look.

"I know. And you can stay here, but I have to go."

Fade lets out a disapproving huff as he lifts his head so I can roll out of bed.

"Dunno what you're complaining about," I mutter as I tug my tunic straight and shake out my smashed pigtails so I can fix them. "You get to stay here, lucky dog." I crack a smile. "Literally. I'll come right back if I can, boy. I promise." I give a final scratch between his ears before I head toward the front gate. _Let's see what's up now..._

"Oh, Commander," the private by the keep's entrance flags me down as I pass. "There are more letters for you."

The familiar handwriting on one of the missives makes me grin. "Thank you, I'll take them now." I might not be able to read them just yet, thanks to whoever's coming, but if I don't take them now, I'll forget. Our visitor has reached the gates by the time I cross the courtyard. When I see who it is, I mumble a curse under my breath before hiding my panic behind a smile. "Can't say I was expecting to see you, Ser Cousland."

"What did I tell you about calling me Hayden?" the man chides with a smile, crossing his arms. He's wearing the same armor as last time, but his hair is tied back in a low, loose ponytail rather than a tightly braided one like before. It actually sort of reminds me of Jowan.

"We're in front of soldiers; don't you think we should keep things formal?" I retort, mind racing as I try to figure out how to break it to Hayden that one of my Wardens is a Howe.

"Very true," he concedes. "Sorry for the surprise visit, but it was sort of last minute." He chuckles. "Trying to avoid getting wrangled into helping with wedding plans."

I laugh. "Ah. So you're leaving everything to Anora?"

"It's much more up her alley than mine anyway. And she knows what she wants, so I'd just get in the way if I tried to help."

"A likely excuse. And here I was thinking Anora sent you to check up on me." I'm only half joking; the thought really did cross my mind.

"Oh, no." Hayden shakes his head as we walk toward the keep. "I wouldn't have come if that was the only reason, I promise. I really am just trying to stay out of her way right now."

"Surprised you picked here rather than returning home, though," I comment. "I mean, I wouldn't have expected you to feel... right, I guess, coming back here after what Arl Howe did to your family."

"Well, for one thing, Amaranthine is closer than Highever, so _if_ Anora really needs me, it's easier to get back. And second, I thought the same; figured I'd never be comfortable seeing this place again. Too many memories from... before." He sighs, looks toward one of the ramshackle outbuildings, and cracks a small smile. "Rachel and Delilah used to play in there when they were younger."

"Oh, speaking of Delilah, you know how you told me you'd heard she was dead?" I begin hesitantly, figuring I can use how he reacts to this bit of new to gauge how to tell him Nathaniel's a Warden.

"Yes..." Hayden looks at me suspiciously. "Why?"

"She's not. I... um... ran into her in the city a while back. She's married to a storekeeper."

"Really? Delilah Howe's a storekeeper's wife?" He raises an eyebrow at me. "Her mother'd have a fit."

"She implied the same," I chuckle. "But she seemed... happy. She loves her husband, isn't living under the shadow of what her father did... You can't fault her for that, can you?"

"No, I don't suppose I can," Hayden admits. "It was Howe's men, Howe's actions, but I never saw any indication his children were involved. Sort of surprised me Thomas didn't know anything," he mutters, "with the way the arl was grooming him to eventually run the arling."

"But I thought Thomas was the younger son," I probe, trying to see if there's any animosity in his responses.

"He was." Hayden shrugs. "Something happened with his oldest and he got squired off in the Free Marches. After that, the arl started acting like Thomas would be his heir, like Nathaniel didn't even exist anymore."

I wince. That pretty much lines up with what Nathaniel told me, but still, I can't imagine my father acting like I didn't exist. "That seems pretty harsh. Why... why would he get like that?"

"With someone like Howe, who knows," Hayden mutters, kicking at the wall as we enter the keep. "Probably decided Nathaniel was too good and wanted him out of the way." He lets out a wry chuckle. "I never understood how a bastard like Howe could have such an honorable son and as sweet a daughter as Delilah."

"Funny how things turn out sometimes," I comment.

"Anyway, why all these questions?"

"Well, partly because I'm curious by nature," I reply with a laugh.

"Only partly? What's the rest of the reason?"

"Um... Maker." I run my hand through my hair. "Hayden, I recruited Nathaniel."

He blinks at me. "What?"

"Nathaniel. As in,_ Howe_. He showed up, I was impressed by his skills as an archer-and honestly believe he's a good person-so I recruited him to the Wardens."

His jaw tightens. "You _recruited_ him?"

I nod, already worried about the way this is going. "Uh-huh. Why shouldn't I have?"

"I..." he sighs. "I don't know."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better about it, he wasn't too sure at first, either." _Even though he asked to join,_ I add mentally. No need to go into crazy amonts of detail. "But he's been..." I pause, trying to come up with the right word. "Invaluable. I really don't know how I would have managed without him." _Quite poorly_, my own voice reminds me, and I fight a smirk at the memory.

He doesn't reply, eyes on the floor.

"I'd consider him a friend," I say slowly, seeing his jaw tighten again. "Hayden? Is this... going to be a problem?"

"I don't know," he finally admits. "I really don't."

"I guess that'll have to do for now." I sigh. I wasn't really expecting more from him; actually, considering how he felt about the arl, I was half-expecting him to be more upset. "Just a warning, though, should you find that it _is_ going to be a problem: aside from the fact Nathaniel is a _very_ skilled rogue and more than capable of taking care of himself, he's also a Warden. That make him one of my men, in addition to being my friend. So if you go after him, I'll go after you." I meet Hayden's eyes, my own deadly serious. "I don't care if you're engaged to the queen of the bloody country. My loyalty is to the Wardens before any one nation. Clear?"

"Perfectly, _Commander_." He sounds peeved.

"Look, Hayden, I don't want to fight, believe me. I just want you to be aware of what would happen if you, say, attacked him."

"Oh, I understand, Commander." He rubs the back of his neck. "I just... find it ironic that I couldn't find hide nor hair of any of the Howes when I was mad enough to do something violent, and now that I can't do anything is when I find the only two left."

"Well, that's the way it goes sometimes." I move toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. "You tired?"

He nods. "Exhausted. I am _not_ accustomed to sleeping on the ground." The last is hemmed in a wry chuckle.

"Well, here, let me show you to a room..."

**oOo**

After showing Hayden to one of the guest rooms, I spend a good five minutes wrestling with whether or not I should say something to Nathaniel. I mean, I think he deserves to know, but where in the Maker's name do I start?

My dilemma solves itself when the archer in question emerges from his room, Honey trailing close behind him. "Something wrong, Commander?"

I sigh, rubbing at the tension-knotted muscles between my shoulder blades. "Yes and no. Not a problem, exactly, just a... concern."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow. "Any way I can help?"

"Actually..." I huff out a breath, blowing at the strands of hair hanging in my eyes. "Sod it all." Nathaniel's never been anything but bluntly honest with me, I suppose he deserves the same respect. "Hayden Cousland is in onr of the guest rooms."

_Both_ eyebrows quirk at that, but his only response is a quiet, "Oh?"

Honey looks up at him and whines softly, as if sensing some level of tension I can't see.

I nod. "He seemed... less than thrilled at the thought of you being here. Not _mad_ exactly, but not happy about it, either."

"Can't really blame him," Nathaniel mutters, reaching down to brush his fingers against Honey's head reassuringly.

"But-like you were so quick to point out the first time we met-what your father did wasn't your fault. And he knows that."

"Emotion and logic rarely work together, Commander." A half smile pulls at one side of his mouth. "As I managed to demonstrate the first time we talked."

"Oh, trust me, I've run into much worse than what you gave me, ser Howe," I chuckle. "But I'm sure you had things you wanted to do, so I'll let you go. Just wanted to give you a heads-up about our guest."

"Appreciate it," Nathaniel nods in thanks as he heads for the courtyard, shouldering the bow and quiver I only just noticed he's carrying. Honey follows him like a furry shadow, and I think I hear a quiet chuckle from the archer when she noses against his leg.

I can't help but grin as I head off to see what the others are up to.

**oOo**

I was planning to check on Velanna first-she was still sleeping off the Joining last I saw her-but she's talking to Sigrun, and I don't want to interrupt.

"What _are_ you staring at, dwarf?" I hear Velanna demand as I pass.

"Your ears are so pointy. Like an animal's," Sigrun comments cheerfully. "Do they make it easier for you to hear?"

_Oh, Maker, this I gotta hear._ I freeze just past the doorway, shamelessly eavesdropping on the rest of their conversation.

Velanna lets out a horrified gasp. "Are you... Are you saying my ears are big?"

"Not _excessively _ so," Sigrun assures her.

"You think they're clownish, don't you?" The mage sounds panic-stricken, and I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. She's _still_ stewing over that? I'll have to let Nathaniel know exactly how far under her skin he got with that comment.

"Y'know, now that you mention it..." Sigrun lets the sentence trail off.

"I _knew_ it!" Velanna gasps. "Don't talk to me!" She storms out of the room, and I hug the shadows even more tightly in hopes she won't see me. I wait until she's out of sight before following her.

"There you are!" I'm so focused on _Velanna_ that Anders catches me off-guard.

"What's up?" I ask, deciding I'd rather talk to him than her anyway.

"Well, since you asked... I found this on my pillow." Anders hold out one hand, a belled collar swinging from his fingers. "You wouldn't happen to know where it came from, would you, Rahna?"

"Oh, that." I bite my lip. "It's for Pounce. So you don't lose him," I explain.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure the darkspawn will be kind enough to return him if he should wander off in the heat of battle," he comments sarcastically.

"A simple 'thank you' works," I riposte with a chuckle

"Thank you, oh grand and wonderful Commander and giver-of-gifts." He grins. "You know the bell's gonna drive Nathaniel crazy, right?"

I match his grin. "I know."

"Minx."

I laugh. "Flatterer. No one's called me that in _ages_."

"Oh? Who was the last one?" he asks as he fastens the collar around Pounce's neck. The cat gives his head a head as if displeased, but settles when Anders scratches under his chin.

"Zevran. That friend who's in Antiva. He used to call me that all the time."

"I see."

Mentioning Zevran reminds me of the letters I'm still holding, now slightly wrinkled. "You and your kitty get back to whatever you were doing, Anders. If anyone needs me, I'll be up on the ramparts somewhere."

"Noted." He and Pounce wander off in the direction of the kitchen. Again.

**oOo**

I spend a moment talking to Voldrik about the state of the Vigil, give him some money to hire skilled stoneworkers, and tell him about the granite deposits I found in the Wending Wood when he complains about the lack of quaility stone in the area. After that, I climb the steps to the ramparts, find a nice corner, and curl up with my letters. I open the one with unfamiliar handwriting first.

**oOo**

_Greetings from Antiva!_

_ I would prefer to be where you are, my minx. Antiva is so dull without you to brighten it. Even with the Crows trying to hunt me down, this place lacks the excitement of being at your side. Ah, well. I expect the Guildmaster will agree to meet me soon. Or maybe I should kill him. What do you think?_

_ I hear the darkspawn have still not gone away? They are like houseguests who overstay their welcome, no? I am saddened you have to deal with such business without me. However, I must deal with the Crows, and have complete faith in your ability to take care of them, much as you did the archdemon. Perhaps if I conclude my business here with all speed, I can manage to join you in time to aid in their demise, yes?_

_ Yours always,_

_ Z _

**oOo**

I grin as I finish reading Zev's letter, running my fingers over the flourishing 'Z'. _Maker, I miss you, Zev._ I know I won't be able to write him back, and wouldn't even if I could. No sense adding unnecessary danger to an already perilous undertaking. Still, glad as I am to have some evidence he's still alive, the letter sharpens the ache in my heart for both him and Jowan. I can usually ignore it, but a reminder like this makes that harder to do. And I know the other letter is only going to make it worse, even as I tear it open.

**oOo**

_Dear Rahna,_

_ Yes, I know I worry too much. I can't help it. Just like you can't help constantly getting lost. And don't worry, we got sent into the Deep Roads almost as soon as we got here, so I haven't had much chance to tell stories about you. Yet. _

_ Funny thing, I've lost track of how many times you've threatened to hit me and then... not. But I miss you enough I'd let you whack me, just because we'd have to be face to face for that._

_ I think this is where I enjoy a smile at __**not**__ being the Commander. I just do what I'm told, kill darkspawn, and avoid the chantry. Even being a Grey Warden, Miri said she still got the evil eye from a priestess in the city. But at least we don't have to worry about politics. Glad to hear you managed to not panic for the length of an entire ceremony. From what I remember you telling me, that's a huge improvement, so you go ahead and feel proud of yourself._

_ So far the Free Marches themselves have been pleasant enough, but considering I've spent more time __**under**__ the ground than above it recently, that's not really saying much. I think I've seen more of the Deep Roads than I have of the fortress where we were stationed. Oh, well. But now I have Miri pounding on my door and telling me soon as we've eaten, we're going back to the Deep Roads, so I guess I should wrap this up._

_ Good luck with your own darkspawn problems. May they be less involved than ours are proving to be._

_ Your friend,_

_ Jowan_

**oOo**

My thoughts go to the Architect and I smirk. 'Involved' would be putting it lightly. My darkspawn problems are a tangled, confused mess, like Pounce's yarn ball after he's chased it all around the courtyard. Still, these letters were a nice treat. I swing my legs idly over the edge of the ramparts as I savor the moment, feeling the paper crinkle in my hands.

"Hey, Rahna."The Vigil's resident mage comedian plunks down next to me and pretends to try and read over my shoulder.

I smirk at him and turn the letter away. "This is personal, you nosy mage."

He waggles his eyebrows at me and pulls a piece of string out of a hidden pocket to twirl in front of Pounce's nose. "I figured _that_. So, who's it from?"

"None of your business," I laugh.

"A secret lover?" he guesses with a smirk.

"Why? Jealous?" I can feel myself blushing as I shake my head. "And, no. He's just a very good friend."

Anders arches one eyebrow suspiciously. "You sure about that? The way you were smiling makes a man wonder."

"Yes, I'm sure. I smile when I hear from friends I miss. It's perfectly normal, you goof."

But his words echo in my head the rest of the day anyway.

_A/N: So, in the interest of fairness, after having Miri go after Jowan about Rahna, I figured someone should go after Rahna about Jowan. Anders promptly volunteered. So I let him have at her. *evil laugh* Same disclaimer as last time; we'll just have to wait and see where this goes... Rahna hasn't let me know where things are heading yet._

_For Zev's letter, yes, I took his romance one from in-game and edited it to fit a friendship rather than a romantic relationship. =)_

_ And Hayden... OMG. I wanted to have him show up again, but if I'd known how much trouble he was going to be to write, I might not have bothered. I'm trying to pick the man's brain about how he'd react to Nathaniel being a Warden, and he's not. talking. to me. Thus the whole 'I don't know' thing, because a certain muse refuse to cooperate. *glares at Hayden-muse* Oh, and I've developed a deep-seated love for writing Nathaniel and Honey. That dog... I swear... I love her._


	36. Playing Host

36. Playing Host

I'm up with the sun the next day. Though not common, this isn't unheard of-unlike a certain mage I could name-so no one comments beyond 'Morning, Commander's and similar greetings as I cross the throne room. I nick an apple and a wedge of cheese from the kitchen as I pass through. This is probably all the breakfast I'll get today, so I'm almost glad Fade is still sleeping across the foot of my bed rather than staring at me with huge brown eyes that beg for an assurance I'll share.

I settle in my favorite place on the ramparts and bite into the apple as I watch the brilliant colors of the sunrise fade into the gorgeous blue of a clear day. This apple is a particularly good one, and juice dribbles down my chin as I tear out a bite. I swipe at the sticky juice with my sleeve.

_"You tryin' to eat that or wear it, love?"_ The chuckled dig echoes from the past and tugs a small, sad smile to my lips. Alistair and I used to tease each other all the time when sometimes-messy meals got away from us.

"Oh, Maker, I miss you, Alistair," I whisper, turning the cheese wedge over in my hand. I know if he were here now he'd be trying to steal it. _But he's not. And you said you were moving on,_ a voice in my head scolds. _This doesn't feel like moving on. This feels more like trapped in the past._

I roll my eyes._ One good memory does __**not**__ mean I'm trapped in the past._ "And now I'm arguing with the voices in my head. Maybe I _am_ crazy," I mutter, taking another bite out of the apple. I shake my head and decide to think about something else. Like Hayden.

Part of me is still half convinced Anora sent her fiance here to spy on me, but I don't have any proof of that. Besides, I know what that woman can be like when she's trying to get something she wants. Maker and Andraste save the person stupid or unfortunate enough to get in her way. So Hayden's wanting to just stay out of her way while she plans their wedding actually makes sense. Still, as his host, I'll feel bad if we leave for the Blackmarsh while he's still here. _But_ the darkspawn aren't going to take a vacation just because I have company. There was a strange and creepy... politeness to the Architect, but it's still a darkspawn. Who held us prisoner. And there's also this Mother that was mentioned by the one darkspawn in Kal'Hirol. She sounds rather ruthless.

I sigh and run one hand through my hair as the wind picks up and some of the unbound strands stick to the apple juice on my face. Much as I feel obligated to 'play host' to Hayden Cousland, the darkspawn are my top priority as a Warden. Who knows what Kristoff's found, or even if he's still alive. I'm sure Varel can handle the role of host. Besides, any excuse I can grab to put more distance between Hayden and Nathaniel-just to be safe-is good enough for me. Mind made up, I finish my breakfast and head back inside to grab my armor and see if Sigrun's awake. I want a match.

**oOo**

I sidetrack myself when I notice Velanna in the throne room, staring almost wistfully at a wall hanging that depicts the story of Dane and the Werewolf. I still need to actually _talk_ to her, so I put finding Sigrun on hold for the moment and cross to join the Dalish mage. "Deciding what you think about the arl's taste in decoration?" I comment dryly.

She shakes her head. "I envy the humans for so many things, but sometimes, I envy them most for their tales. Even the youngest human child knows of at least a dozen heroes of legend. These tales are taken for granted. They are _so_ abundant, it makes me angry sometimes," she mutters, soft note leaving her voice to make way for one of frustration. "We Dalish have lost most of our history _and _our legends. What we do remember, _we_ hold dear." She looks at me as if I can't possibly understand.

_Y'know, Velanna, that accusatory note better not be aimed at me._ "We can share stories," I point out. "They belong to everyone."

"But does a human child value the tale of the Paragon Aeducan as much as he does Dane and the Werewolf?" she demands, gesturing at the wall hanging as if it's proof. "Stories connect us to our past. They shape a people in profound ways. Without them, we are lost." She snorts derisively, lighting brushing her fingertips over her _vallaslin_ as she eyes my lack of tattoos. "As if a flat ear could ever understand..."

Her words and her tone make me bristle, and it takes everything in me to keep my reply civil. "Velanna, don't think just because I grew up in a human city that I don't know what the elves lost. Our hahren told us the stories, and my mother used to as well. So do both of us a favor and lose the high and mighty tone when you talk to me. Then I won't get pissed off and you won't get yourself in trouble. Sound like a fair deal?"

She nods. "Under... Understood, Commander." She sighs. "Don't you ever wish you could do something to restore this lost part of our soul? Get back what we've lost?"

"You could just make your own stories," I point out.

She snorts again. "Now you're just being ridiculous. Let's get on with the day."

I'm all too willing to end this conversation if she is. Maker, I've never met anyone so prickly. "Let's. Have you seen Sigrun yet this morning?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet, no. But she and _that mage_ were up late last night."

I chuckle at her reference to Anders. "Alright, then. I'll see if she's still sleeping."

**oOo**

I all but run into Sigrun as I head down the hallway, already wearing her armor and a cheery grin. "Off to somewhere important, Sig?"

"Well, I was just gonna grab some breakfast and then go practice, Commander," she nods. "But if you need me to do somethin' else...?"

"You up to a practice match against me?"

She raises an eyebrow. "You... want to fight me?"

"You're good at what you do, Sigrun. And it's been awhile since I've had someone with a similar style to practice with."

"Rough-and-tumble-anything-goes?" she grins.

I nod. "The kind of things you only learn living on the streets."

Her grin widens. "Sure thing, Commander. Lemme get something to eat, and I'll meet you out there."

"Sounds good. I need to get my armor and swords, anyway, so no rush."

"Prepare to eat dirt," she threatens cheerily before heading for the kitchen.

I laugh before resuming course toward my room.

**oOo**

Sigrun is good. Very, very good. As in, she beats me. Her brand of rough-and-tumble-anything-goes is even rougher than what I'm used to, and the time it takes me to adjust is all she needs to land me face down in the dirt, her knee between my shoulder blades and her dirk just pricking the back of my neck.

"Okay," I cough, grinning almost as wide as she is, "lemme try that again."

"Sure thing, Commander," the dwarf giggles, offering me a hand up.

This time when she tried the move that landed me on my stomach last time, a dizzying flurry of attacks that ends with sweeping your legs out from under you, I duck to the side and use one of those shadow-hugging tricks Kiv taught me. The sun's up, but there are still enough shadows in this part of the courtyard for it to work. I come at Sigrun from behind after I'm sure she's lost track of me, and almost manage to disarm her. I get her to drop her axe, but for some reason that's beyond me, the grip she has on her dirk is supernaturally persistant. Calling it a death grip would be too tame even.

She yelps as her axe goes tumbling into the dust, spinning a couple times before it comes to a stop. "Good one, Commander."

" 'M not done yet," I fire back with a grin.

Sigrun ducks under my scissoring blades and dives for her axe, somehow regaining her feet, both weapons in hand, before I've caught up to her. She bats aside my next couple strikes, and makes a pair of her own that I parry.

"You're really good," I pant, spinning to the side to avoid her axe.

"Thanks. You, too," she returns. "Guess that's the reason we're both still alive, huh?"

"Yup."

I'm not entirely sure what happens or how, or even whose fault it is, but somehow we end up in a tangled mess on the ground.

"Ow." Sigrun winces as she looks at her shoulder, her grimace deepening when she tries to wiggle her fingers. "That's dislocated..."

I wince in sympathy. "Sorry."

She shrugs with her good shoulder. "These things happen." She stands and starts trying to undo the buckles on her armor. I reach to help, gingerly working free the pieces of her armor as the buckles loosen.

I turn toward the keep. "We should let And-"

"Dwarf, remember, Commander," Sigrun points out with a wry grin as her breastplate comes free and thumps against the ground. "Magic's not gonna help much."

"Oh. Right." Can't believe I forgot that. "Still, he's a healer, he might be able to help. C'mon, what's it going to hurt?"

**oOo**

It takes a bit more cajoling, but Sigrun finally agrees to let Anders take care of her arm rather than trying to pop it back in herself.

"What were you two doing anyway?" the mage asks, taking in the dust powdering my armor and swirling in sweaty streaks across both our faces.

"Dueling," we reply in unison.

"I won," Sigrun adds with a mischievous grin that wavers slightly when Anders' fingers brush her shoulder.

"Only the first time!" I protest when Anders starts to comment. "And I'd have won the second time if this hadn't happened."

"Maybe. Now can you fix this, please?" she asks, looking at Anders impatiently.

"Hang on, love," he chuckles. With a practiced yank, he pulls on Sigrun's arm and it pops back in the socket with an audible _crack_.

She sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out slow as she flexes her hand. "Thanks."

"Welcome. You do realize you need to take it easy for a day or two, right?"

"No way," she protests. "I've had way worse and kept goin'. I'm not-"

"Yes, you are," I interrupt. "Sigrun, I need you in good shape for fighting the darkspawn, and having you fight just off an injury is not the best way to do that. I can bring Velanna to the Blackmarsh."

"Commander-"

"Sigrun, I've had a dislocated shoulder before. You're staying here." I hate being so strict, but when I have other options, I'm not making someone fight straight off an injury like that.

She sighs as we head back to the courtyard for her armor. "Fine. But do me a favor and take Oghren? He won't stop hitting on me. It's gross."

I laugh. "That's Oghren for you. He's not serious. I'll see what I can do." But I was already planning on taking Anders-healer-and Nathaniel-keep him away from Hayden, just in case-so I'm not sure which would be the better choice; the elf with an attitude problem or the drunken dwarf.

"Thanks. Hey, Commander?"

"Yeah?"

"When'd you dislocate your shoulder?" She bends over and picks up pieces of her armor, stacking them neatly before settling on a rock.

"While I was fighting the Blight, we had to go into the Deep Roads-"

"To look for Branka," she interrupts. "We heard in the Legion."

"While we were down there, we ran into this ogre..."

**oOo**

_"That all of them?" I ask, stepping around the three shriek corpses sprawled on the tunnel floor. _

_ Alistair nods. "It was just the three."_

_ "And nobody's hurt?" I double check as I sheath my swords._

_ "We're all fine, dear," Wynne assures me._

_ "Alright, then." I spin a half-circle to get my bearings. It's even easier to get lost down here, even without factoring the constant claustrophobia and chittering darkspawn voices on the edge of my sanity. "This way." I head off down the tunnel._

_ "Rahna, wait-" Alistair's warning is cut off by the roar of an ogre lurking a short way down a side tunnel as it sees me. _

_ "Oh, sod," I mutter as it lowers its head to charge at me. The tunnels are so narrow even dodging to the side doesn't get me all the way out of danger, until Alistair charges past me, yelling at the top of his lungs to draw its attention away from me._

_ The ogre roars and bats him aside in a clatter of armor meeting stone, twisting to glare at Morrigan as her lightning spell finds its mark._

_ "Alistair, you alright?" I holler, finding my voice after a moment of panic as I slice the monster's ankles._

_ "Fine, love," he promises as he gets to his feet and puts himself between the ogre and the two mages. The ogre is less than pleased with this development, and reaches out one gnarled purplish-blue hand to snatch the warrior off the ground._

_ "__**Alistair!**__" I tamp down the panic, rage, __**fear**__ before they cloud my judgment as the ogre pummels him. Again and again and again. _He's not moving_. The icy tendrils of panic ooze free around the edges of my control. Unable to fight any longer, I follow the leading of the fear-terror, really-at the thought of losing him and leap onto the ogre's chest, digging my swords in deep._

_ It bellows in pain, drops Alistair, and swipes at me. The clawed hand closes around my bicep and it tears me off, flinging me against the wall even as blood seeps between its fangs and it stumbles._

_ The way it swings me around is an awkward angle, and I hear something pop as I slam against the wall of the tunnel. _Dear Maker, that hurts..._ Head spinning, entire right arm screaming in agony, I struggle to my feet. The ogre crashes to the ground, its head bouncing off the tunnel floor before it lays still._

_ "You... alright, love?" Alistair asks, rubbing his jaw and spitting out a mouthful of blood._

_ "Well, I'm alive." I hiss in pain as I try to move my arm, amazed that even after the beating he took, he's still more worried about me. "It's just bruises. And I think my right shoulder's dislocated."_

_ "Sit still, young lady," Wynne admonishes as she summons a healing spell for Alistair. "You're next."_

_ "Oh, joy," I mutter, knowing she's right._

_ After Wynne's wrenched my arm back into the socket and done what she can to cut down the residual pain, Alistair pulls me in for a kiss. "Thanks, love."_

_ "For what?" I play innocent, waiting for him to say it._

_ "You know what," he laughs, tugging one of my pigtails before whispering playfully, "My hero."_

_ "Ooooh, that." I grin. "You can thank me properly when we get back to Orzammar and can have some privacy." I saunter off down the tunnel, enjoying how very __**red**__ his face has gone a little more than I probably should._

** oOo**

"Wow," is Sigrun's only comment when I finish.

"Yeah. I have many, many good reasons to hate ogres, but that fight is pretty near the top of the list," I reply before standing. "I need to go get ready to leave."

"You're going now? When the queen's fiance's still here?" She raises an eyebrow at me.

"Darkspawn trump politics," I shrug. "Hopefully Hayden will understand." I grin evilly at her. "And you can help Varel play host."

For some reason she doesn't seem too happy with that idea.

_A/N: Oh, Maker, that was fun to write! I wanted somebody to beat Rahna, I love Sigrun, and there ya go! Yes, it was partially because I wanted a good reason to not bring Sigrun to the Blackmarsh(purely for variety's sake... Velanna must come), but I also just wanted to write her being awesome again. :) The flashback wasn't planned, but I decided to run with it when it popped up. So, off to Blackmarsh next time. I hope. Unless it gets derailed somehow..._


	37. Too Close For Comfort

37. Too Close for Comfort

Their return to the Deep Roads wasn't as imminent as Miri made it sound when she pounded on Jowan's door. They had to wait for Vincent to get the supplies he'd requested, wait for Ashe to convince both an infirmary full of healers_ and _her brother that she was healed enough to return to duty and not be a liability, and by that point, it was late enough in the day Vincent just decided to wait until morning.

"Why's it matter?" Ashe asked impatiently. "If we're underground, it doesn't 'zactly matter what time of day it is, does it?"

"We'll be better rested if we wait for morning, have more energy and be able to get farther before we have to make camp, "Vincent explained. "I know you're anxious to get back in there, Ashe-"

"You bet I am! The bloody darkspawn'll have taken back all the ground we covered last time at this rate!" Utter frustration filled her eyes as Ashe laced her fingers together and cracked her knuckles.

"So we'll fight them back again. It goes with the job description, Ashe. You're being irrational. It's not worth the risk."

"Fine. See you in the morning," the warrior muttered before storming off to her room.

"She's always cranky when she's tired," Vincent muttered to the two mages. "Get some sleep. We'll probably end up leaving rather early tomorrow."

"Warning noted, " Miri chuckled, shooting Jowan a knowing look. "If we can get you to wake up," she whispered as they headed for their rooms.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," he shot back, fighting a grin.

"Yeah. Probably just have Vincent drag you out of bed."

"That would work better than bouncing on my bed and repeating my name until I throw my pillow at you."

"Aw, c'mon, that was fun," Miri teased. "For me, at least."

Jowan glared at her, or tried to. "You're impossible."

"You're the one who wanted to be my friend. You have no one to blame but yourself," she pointed out sweetly.

"What _was_ I thinking?" Jowan teased. Miri shot him a dirty look and playfully slugged his arm. "Ow."

"You were never such a brat at the tower," she muttered, giggling. "That was my job. Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

He laughed. "Being told repeatedly I need to lighten up finally sunk in, I guess."

One of Miri's eyebrows quirked. "Rahna's work again?"

Jowan shook his head. "Mir, now now. I'm not in the mood for another round about that."

"Fine, but it's gonna happen eventually. My questions were not answered to my satisfaction," Miri smirked.

He sighed. "You're too persistant for your own good sometimes, you know that?" They reached his room and his hand curled around the knob in case he needed a quick escape from the chatty, stubborn elf walking with him.

"I know. But persistence pays off more than it causes problems, so I doubt I'll change." She grinned.

"Warning noted. I need to get to bed."

"Fine, fine. G'night." The elf shot him a parting grin and sauntered off down the hall toward the stairs that led up to her room.

" 'Night, Mir." Jowan shook his head, fighting a smile as he watched her go. After she'd rounded the corner, he ducked into his room and shut the door. The last traces of the sunset were still fading from the sky, indicating it was earlier than he would usually go to bed, but if Vincent was serious about leaving early tomorrow, it was probably a good idea to get to sleep now. Miri had only sounded half-joking about having the warrior drag him out of bed.

Jowan pulled off his shirt and tossed it over the back of the chair, figuring he could wear it the next day as well. It wasn't until he turned toward the bed that he noticed the loosely wrapped bundle sitting squarely in the middle of his pillow, a note pinned to the top. The mage sighed as he reached for it. He had a feeling he already knew exactly what was in the bundle. And who had left it there. One glance at the thin, near-perfect handwriting of the note confirmed one suspicion, and the note itself did a pretty good job confirming the other.

_Jowan~_

_ These are for you. They're enchanted with enough extras to make a magister jealous, including armor and a health bonus. And if you're not wearing them tomorrow, I __**will**__ subject you to another round of interrogation regarding a certain elven rogue currently in Amaranthine._

_ ~Miri_

He sighed as he sat down on the bed and tugged at the loosely tied string that held the whole thing together. _That little..._ The robes were light blue, similar in style to the ones Miri wore, only sized for a human rather than an elf.

"Miri, I'm gonna kill you," he muttered, rubbing his thumb against the blue material. It was just like her to try to force his hand with something like this. Their conversation earlier may have _started_ on Rahna, but Miri had found a way to work it around so she could badger him about his preference for regular clothes over robes, too. She probably figured giving him an ultimatum like that was win-win for her; either she got to pester him about Rahna some more, or he'd wear the robes.

As he looked at the wording again, Jowan smirked. The note was conspicuously lacking a promise she'd leave him alone regarding Rahna if he caved and wore the blasted robes. _Gotcha, Mir._ He wasn't sure if the absence was intentional or not, but long as that loophole existed, he could-and would-take just as much advantage of it as Miri.

For now, however, the robes were deposited on top the trunk at the foot of the bed so he could go to sleep.

**oOo**

Despite the fact Jowan _didn't_ wear the robes the next day-which she had a feeling was very much on purpose-Miri had trouble figuring out how to resume her interrogation. Mostly because they left for the Deep Roads so bloody early she wasn't entirely sure Jowan was truly _awake_ for the first few hours. It was hard to interrogate someone who was still at least half asleep.

And by the time he seemed more awake, the four Wardens had made it far enough into the Deep Roads to make a startling and somewhat unsettling discovery. The tunnels Ashe had been so worried about the darkspawn reclaiming were still as empty as they'd been left. Rocks, fungus, and a few darkspawn corpses were all the Wardens found.

"This... this is wrong," Ashe mumbled, a deep frown creasing her forehead. "Vince, I can't even sense any close by."

"Me, neither," her brother agreed before turning to the mages. "What about you two?"

Miri looked over at Jowan. "Not nearby, no. I can sense some, but they seem far away. You?"

"Same," he nodded.

"They should have been all over these tunnels by now." The warrior frowned. "Something's not right here. Come on, we need to keep going. Where do you sense them the strongest?" he asked Miri.

"That way." She pointed down the left side of the fork in the tunnels ahead. "There's a lot in that direction."

Vincent frowned. "That's... toward the channel."

"What channel?" Miri asked. She couldn't remember hearing anything about a channel in this part of the Deep Roads.

"The channel where the Waking Sea separates the Free Marches from Ferelden," Vincent explained.

"I thought those tunnels were all blocked off or collapsed," Ashe pointed out, leaning against a clean patch of wall.

"So did I. Why would the darkspawn be that way?"

"I can't read their minds," Miri muttered, "just sense their presence."

"I know, sorry." Vincent sighed. "I guess we're going left, then. Let's go."

As they fell in step behind the two warriors, Miri looked over at Jowan. "I was so sure you'd wear the robes."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why?"

She shrugged. " 'Cause you got all uncomfortable when I int- asked you about Rahna before. I figured you'd want to avoid that again."

"There was nothing in your note promising you _wouldn't_ ask about her if I wore them," Jowan returned. "Figured it wasn't worth the risk. I like these clothes, Mir."

"Drat, I was hoping you'd miss that..."

"So it was absent on purpose?" Jowan smirked. "I thought so."

"When'd you get so damned cynical?" Miri teased.

"About the point I spent my fifth week in a row sleeping in a ditch," he shot back, then winced, rubbing the back of his neck in chagrin. "Maker... sorry, Miri. I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

" 'S'alright. I don't know why it's so easy for me to forget what you went through, but it is." She offered an apologetic smile.

"Still..." Jowan shook his head. "I'm not in the greatest mood, but I shouldn't take that out on you."

"Wanna just say it's both our faults and get on with life?" Miri offered.

He chuckled. "Sounds good to me."

"So, about Rahna..."

"Miri..."

"Hey, I warned you," she reminded him with a grin.

"That's true, you did."

**oOo**

"You're not going to volunteer anything, are you?" Miri laughed.

"No, 'cause there's nothing _to_ volunteer," Jowan replied, fighting a smile.

"Oh, come _on,_ Jowan. You like her," the elf insisted.

"Yeah, I do."

Miri's eye widened. "I kn-"  
"As a friend, Miri Surana." He grinned. It may have earned him the evil eye, but baiting her like this was too much fun. "Same way I like you."

She socked him in the arm for that. "You rat."

"You're the one who asked to be my friend," he reminded her.

"That's 'cause you were a scrawny little kid with these huge, sad blue eyes who looked like you needed a friend just as bad as I did."

"You felt sorry for me, in other words."

"Well, yeah, a little, I guess," she admitted. "That didn't last long. And nice redirect, by the way. I believe we were discussing your relationship with Rahna?"

"Which doesn't go beyond friendship," he insisted for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Bull. When are you gonna quit lying to me, Jowan?" She quirked an eyebrow at him.

Jowan sighed in exasperation and raked his hand through his hair, stopping just before he reached his ponytail. "By all that's holy, Mir, why are you so sure I'm lying?" He was perfectly willing to answer her questions, but it was getting a tad annoying that she was so convinced he wasn't telling the truth.

"Aside from the way you're always talking about her? Try the fact her opinion seems to matter to you more than anyone else's, even _mine_. Or-"

"Shh!" Vincent held up a hand, warning them to silence.

Even as the question of what their leader had seen or sensed formed in Jowan's mind, it was answered. From the strong pull of the darkspawn presence that swamped his senses, the mage was pretty sure they were about to run into an emissary. _And a pretty powerful one at that_, he added mentally, looking over at Miri. She nodded, wincing as the sensation grew stronger. She could tell, too. Somehow, knowing it wasn't just him getting the sense that this emissary was especially bad news made Jowan feel just a little bit better.

Of course, knowing they would have to _fight_ said emissary scared him half to death if he was honest.

"What is it, Vince?" Ashe whispered, her axes already in hand.

"Darkspawn emissary. I think it's a genlock, but I can't be sure," her brother whispered back.

"It is," Miri chipped in. "A very strong one, too."

"It definitely has to die, then," Ashe muttered, edging forward.

"Hang on, Ashe." Vincent grabbed her arm. "You charge out there, it'll just take you down. We need to work together."

She huffed out an impatient sigh. "Fine. But until we know where it is, what it can do, we're not gonna know how to beat it."

**oOo**

She had a point, Miri had to admit. There was just one problem: "And how are you proposing we find all that out?"

Ashe grinned at her. "Simple. I'm pretty sneaky for a warrior. I can get closer. Maybe I won't find out all we need to know, but I can get us enough to go on."

"Hurry back," Vincent whispered; a roundabout way of giving his permission.

"I will," Ashe promised. And she was. In fact, it seemed she'd barely rounded the corner before she hastily retreated. "It's a sodding _necromancer_," she hissed, blowing a wisp of dark hair out of her eyes.

"Well, this'll be fun, then," Miri muttered sardonically, shifting her grip on her staff. "It has to have sensed us by now; and hiding around the corner's not going to kill the blasted thing."

"Very true," Vincent chuckled, settling his shield firmly on his arm. " We just need to get close enough to take off its head or something. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Miri heard Jowan mutter as she and Ashe nodded.

"Then let's get to it." Their charge around the corner brought them face to face with a pair of lurching, dead-eyed hurlocks, reanimated corpses that only slowed them for the space of a breath before Vincent and Ashe cut them down.

That breath proved to be a costly one, however, as it gave the necromancer time to summon a chain lightning spell. Vincent was the closest and took the brunt of the shock, letting out a loud grunt as the lightning jumped from him to Ashe to Jowan to Miri.

Miri gritted her teeth, her knuckles turning white as she used her grip on her staff to help keep her from passing out. She heard Jowan pull in a sharp breath, and felt bad for being grateful the spell had lost so much of its power by the time it hit her.

Ashe's berserker fire seemed to give her an inhuman resistance to pain, for the warrior's only reaction was to glare at the darkspawn and growl, "This again?" as she threw herself forward down the long, straight section of tunnel between her and the darkspawn. Vincent and Jowan weren't far behind her, but Miri hung back, rest one hand against the wall as she fought off the lingering effects of the lightning spell.

"Ashe, wait-" Jowan's warning came too late. The necromancer hurled a fist-sized chunk of stone at Ashe, the projectile shattering against her armor as it threw her back. The berserker bounced off the tunnel wall before tumbling to the ground. Even as she made it back to her knees, the beginnings of another spell formed around the genlock's hands.

"_Get back!_" Miri screamed at the top of her lungs. She recognized that spell. From the look in his eyes, so did Jowan. _Too close, you're all too close!_

Given the close confines of the tunnel, there was simply nowhere to go. Vincent grabbed Ashe's arm and dragged her along as he and Jowan backed up, but they were still too close for comfort when the fireball came blazing toward them.

Miri's arms flew up instinctively to protect her face. "_Jowan!_"

_A/N: I swear, I did not intend to make this a cliffhanger when I started. Cross my heart and hope to die. Rahna is no longer the only character who will say "Never mind your plan; I wanna go THAT way!". I blame Jowan and Miri. Mostly Miri. The fight was unexpected to begin with, and it wasn't until I checked the chapter length that I realized I'm at my cut-off point... so, sorry. You'll probably hate me extra for this, but the rough outline I have includes going back to Rahna and Co. for two chapters before this gets resolved. I'll try to negotiate with the muses, though. Because that much cruelty is almost inhuman, and I'm not really THAT mean. I think. =D_


	38. No Promises

38. No Promises

"Oghren, have you seen Velanna?"

"Not fer a couple a hours, C'mmander," the dwarf replies, chuckling to himself. "She's a lotta fun, though."

"Maker's breath... What did you _do_?" I demand. I know Oghren. And I know what he considers fun, which has me very, very worried. Especially considering what I know of Velanna and her temper.

"Not a soddin' thing!" Oghren protests. "She... asked about why dwarves revere the stone and I had a little fun with answerin', that's all." He laughs. "And she bought it. The whole thing."

"What did you tell her?" I ask, leaning against a nearby pillar. Now I'm plain old curious.

"That it's 'cause dwarves are born as rocks."

"You did _not_!" I can't help but giggle, mostly because I'm sure he did.

"I did. Pink streaks means a girl, grey streaks means a boy. An' she_ believed _me," he laughs.

"Wow. Well, I guess she has to learn sooner or later that she can't take anything you say seriously," I tease, still giggling. "Hey, if you don't know where Velanna is, have you seen Anders or Nathaniel? I'm thinkin' we should leave for the Blackmarsh soon, and I wanted to give them some warning."

"Sparklefingers is in his room. Not sure about Howe."

_Sweet Andraste, you too?_ I shake my head. "Thanks." I head off to talk to Anders, trying to figure out where Nathaniel might be.

**oOo**

"Hey, Anders, I was thinking we should leave for the Blackmarsh soon. So consider this a warning," I tease, leaning against the doorjamb.

"You mean this lovely break is coming to an end?" he shoots back, grinning at me. He's laying back on his bed, Pounce curled up and asleep on his chest.

"Yep. So either wake up your cat or figure out how to get out from under him while he's still asleep."

"Will do, Rahna. But..." he only hesitates a second. "Are you sure you want to leave with His Royal Highness here?"

"Not really. But I doubt the darkspawn care if I have a houseguest. And if Kristoff needs help, 'Sorry, I was entertaining company' is a _really_ flimsy excuse. 'Sides, the Wardens aren't supposed to get involved in politics, so it's not like I need to keep them happy or anything."

"And you don't like the queen. Don't forget that one," he adds, gingerly sliding Pounce off his chest and sitting up, all the while shooting me a cheeky grin.

"Even 'don't like' is kinda strong," I protest.

"C'mon, Rahna. That first night here? I could totally tell you really don't like her."

"She's far from my favorite person in the world, I'll give you that much," I concede. "But I _am_ trying to get along and be nice."

"So, if she's not your favorite person in the world, who is?"

"You're as nosy as I am, Anders," I laugh.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he retorts. Pounce chooses this moment to wake up and jump back up on Anders' shoulder. "Come on, tell me."

"You sound rather desperate to know... I could have some fun with this..." I chuckle.

"Rahna."

I sigh in mock-exasperation. "Fine." I smirk. "Nathaniel." I make sure I'm gone before Anders has recovered enough to ask if I'm serious.

**oOo**

Nathaniel's not in his room when I check, but since his bow's gone too, I think I know where he is. I peek into my room, looking for Fade, before I head outside. To my surprise, the mabari's not curled up on the chaotic mess of blankets and sheets that is my bed. I frown. _Where is that dog?_ I'll look for him later. Right now I need to find Nathaniel. I crack my knuckles absently as I head down the hallway.

"Sigrun, is it true that dwarves are born as rocks?" Velanna sounds wary, as if she's testing a rumor she mostly believes, but is still uncertain about. Glad as I am to have found her, I have to hear this before I interrupt.

"Born as..._what_?" Sigrun's tone is incredulous.

"I _knew_ it!" the elf seethes. "That... that slimy, foul-breathed toadstool! 'Pink ones are girls, grey ones are boys'. Ooooh, and I almost believed him!"

"Who? Oghren?" Sigrun giggles. "You believed _Oghren_?"

"Almost, _**almost**_ believed him!" Velanna retorts. "Elgar'nan-"

"There you are," I interrupt, stepping into the room before she can get herself too worked up. "Velanna, I'm heading for the Blackmarsh, and since Sigrun hurt her arm, I need you to come with me."

"Commander, I told you, I'm fine," Sigrun mutters.

"And I told you I don't want you fighting if you don't have to. So, Velanna, get together anything you think you'll need. Hopefully we're leaving soon."

"Hopefully?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"I still need to find Nathaniel, and tell Varel what we're doing," I explain. "I don't know how long that's going to take."

"Oh. I understand." She leaves, heading for her room.

"So you're leaving me here with Oghren?" Sigrun makes a face. "Thanks a lot, Commander."

"Considering Velanna's attitude toward humans, I'm not sure I want to leave her here with the queen's fiance," I point out.

"True... still, can you at least tell him to stay at the opposite end of the keep from me?"

I laugh. "I'll see what I can do." _After I find Nathaniel..._

**oOo**

Fortunately, the archer is where I was expecting to find him: the corner of the Vigil's courtyard that's set up to serve as an archery range. Honey's laying in the shade not far off, her golden-brown eyes fixed on Nathaniel as he nocks another arrow and draws back the bowstring, holding it for the barest sliver of a moment before letting it fly. The arrow, of course, goes right where he was aiming, burying itself inside the same small circle on the target as the other four or five already there.

"Feel up to doing that to some darkspawn?" I ask as I approach, timing my question to be between shots. I bite back a grin when I realize I've found my mabari, too. Fade is laying with his chin on Honey's back, and barely looks up at me when I crouch to ruffle his ears.

Nathaniel turns, letting the arrow rest slack on the string. "I could be. Are we leaving soon, then?"

"Soon as we're ready and I've informed Varel," I reply, shooting him a teasing grin. "You sound like you're bored or something."

He shrugs but smiles. "I believe_ restless _would be more accurate than _bored_, Commander."

"I see. Well, then, I'll have to hurry those mages along."

He raises an eyebrow as he heads for the target to pull out the tightly clustered arrows. "Both of them?"

"I know, I know." I stand. "But Sigrun hurt her arm in our sparring match this morning, and given Velanna's hostilty toward humans, it's probably not smart to leave her around Hayden unsupervised."

"Ah. That does make sense." He chuckles, slipping the retrieved arrows back in the quiver. "I'll be ready shortly, Commander."

When she sees him head back for the keep, Honey jumps up to follow, sending Fade tumbling backwards when she does. He lets out a hurt whine as he stands and gives himself a shake.

I laugh. "Oh, hush, you big baby. She still likes you. C'mon, let's go inform Varel of our plans." He bumps the back of my knee when I start walking, almost knocking me over. "Fade! Cut that out!" I'm giggling hard enough the command doesn't carry much weight. Fade barks happily and takes off after Honey. _**Somebody's**__ smitten._ I grin as I follow.

**oOo**

Varel's in the throne room, and he's in complete agreement with my decision to go to the Blackmarsh. "Kristoff has been gone an awfully long time, Commander. It's hardly the first time a Warden's been gone for weeks at a stretch, but something has me worried about him this time."

"And you'll take care of Hayden while I'm gone? Make sure he has what he needs and all?" I twirl one of my pigtails, trying to think if there's anything else.

"Of course, Commander. Who's going with you?"

"Anders, Nathaniel, and Velanna. So just make sure Oghren doesn't challenge the poor man to a drinking game or something," I grin. "Oh, and as far as Wardens go, I know there'll only be two here, but Sigrun's in charge."

"As you say, Commander," Varel nods. Those arrangements taken care of, I head off to finish collecting the supplies we'll need.

**oOo**

It's as we're leaving that Sergeant Maverlies flags me down. "Commander, you need to see this."

_Maker, why do you do this to me?_ "What is it?"

"The men finished clearing the rubble under the keep," she explains. "Y'need to see what they found."

"Fine, fine," I mutter. _Andraste's teeth, I'm never gonna get out of here!_ The others follow us down as Maverlies shows me what lay behind the rubble. I hear Sigrun whistle and Anders curse under his breath when we finally get there. What the men found is a serious of rickety wooden ladders and platforms that lead down to tunnels. "Sigrun, you and Oghren can take care of that."

"Commander, I thought you didn't want me fighting," she points out.

"If it could be avoided. Now there's two places that need Wardens, so it can't be avoided," I explain. "Get Oghren, tell him you're in charge, and then the two of you head down there."

"I- Of course, Commander." She sighs in resignation as she turns to go get the other dwarf.

"Hey, Sig?" I call after her. She turns back expectantly. "No promises, but if you deal with this, and I deal with the Blackmash, that may make it so there's time to return to Amaranthine when I get back."

Even in the dim cave I see her eyes light up. "You got it, Commander."

I chuckle. "Good girl." That taken care of, the rest of us are off for the Blackmarsh.

**oOo**

"Commander, could I ask you something?"

" 'Course you can, you're her favorite person in the world," I hear Anders mutter as I look up at Nathaniel.

"What?" The archer shoots a questioning look at the mage.

"Nothing," I answer for him. "It's nothing. But he's right; seein' as we're_ friends_, of course you can ask me something."

"What you said to Sigrun about returning to Amaranthine-"

"_**Maybe**_," I clarify.

"Alright, fine,_ maybe_." He almost chuckles. "If it works out, could I come with you?"

"Nathaniel, since you joined, have I gone _anywhere_ without you?" I ask.

This time he _does_ chuckle. "No, I don't believe you have."

"Then I'd say the odds are good you'll get to come along for that, too."

"Thanks."

I spend almost thirty seconds fighting my curious nature before I surrender and ask, "You just gonna visit Delilah again?"

He nods, raising an eyebrow. "Mm-hm. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," I reply, trying to sound innocent. Either not hard enough or too hard, because Nathaniel doesn't look like he's buying it. "Just curious, that's all."

"Who else would I visit?" he asks, the raised eyebrow going even higher.

"Nobody in particular..." I mumble. I look at Anders, half hoping for a rescue, but he and Velanna are arguing about fireballs or something. No help there.

"Rahna." The mere fact he used my sodding_ name _nearly stops me in my tracks. "Tell me. As a friend."

_Oh, balls._ He's got me there. "That's cheating!" I protest.

"No, I don't think it is," Nathaniel counters quietly, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth.

I groan and mumble, "Vi."

"Who? I couldn't hear you."

I sigh, roll my eyes, and repeat-louder this time-"Vi."

He looks at me like I'm crazy-which I am, but not in regards to this. "Delilah's friend? Dare I ask why you'd think that?"

I can feel my face getting hot. _Maker, I shoulda kept my mouth shut..._"I, um, I just... She's a pretty girl and, uhm, I was thinkin' if she's sweet on, um, you... maybe thefeelingwasmutual." My words jam together and I mumble the ending bit, wishing more than ever before that the ground would swallow me up.

Nathaniel's still looking at me incredulously. "If she's... _what_?"

"You didn't notice? Men, I swear..." I roll my eyes, and enunciate as I repeat myself. "Violet Henley is sweet on you."

"And you know this how, exactly?"

"Maker, above, did we see the same woman at Delilah's house? It was so bloody obvious!" I shrug. "Well, I s'ppose you _do_ have a better excuse than most for not noticing, what with seeing your sister for the first time in almost a decade and all. But still..." I let the sentence trail off, huffing at the hair falling in my eyes. "Andraste's _eyes_, Nate, she wasn't 'zactly hiding it." The nickname slips out in my impassioned explanation, but he doesn't correct me, so I doubt it'll be the last time I use it.

"Indeed?" Only Nathaniel could make a single word say more than an entire speech. "And you weren't just imagining things?"

"Not unless Sigrun and Anders imagined the exact same thing," I shoot back. "Is it really so hard to believe that a woman could be sweet on you?"

"Considering she only had roughly two minutes to go on..." He hesitates, sighs. "_Unexpected_ is probably a better word than _unbelievable_."

"Y'know, not all women want a ladies' man like Anders," I point out.

"I heard that!" the mage protests.

"Oh, hush, I wasn't talking to you!" I retort, rolling my eyes as I turn back to my conversation with Nathaniel. "So, you know, _if_ we wind up back in Amaranthine, and _if_ we happen to bump into her..." I shrug. "Maybe give her a smile."

He chuckles. "No promises, but... we'll see."

_A/N: Sorry about the slight delay in posting, folks... My internet's out at home & I had to wait until I could get to the library. _

_Ah, Rahna... 'bout time you suffered from foot-in-mouth. *giggle* That conversation about Vi was wickedly fun to write. *evil chuckle* And yes, I delegated a sidequest. This will end up way, way crazy long if Rahna has to be the one to do everything. And I have an... interesting idea that sprouted from having her send Sigrun and Oghren to take care of the tunnels under the Vigil. _

_Unfortunately it does look like I'll have to do another Rahna chapter before I get back to Jowan&Miri(mostly cuz the resolution of their *cough* situation hasn't fully struck yet...). So, yes, I suppose I AM that evil after all. Sorry!_

_Ooh, and as of this chapter, I think this(as in Absence) is the longest thing I've ever written, word count-wise. _


	39. Anywhere but Here

39. Anywhere but Here

We walk in silence for a while, each busy with our own thoughts. It's not an awkward silence, the kind you feel a need to fill, but rather a comfortable one that seems perfectly fine to leave alone. Okay, so I _am_ having a very hard time not teasing Nathaniel some more about Vi. But that's just me. I always have trouble keeping my mouth shut. Anyone who knows me can attest to that. But even I'm surprisingly okay with this silence.

Unfortunately, it can't last forever, and I can't say I'm surprised Velanna's the one to break it.

"You're staring, Anders," the elf snaps, finally noticing the looks he's been darting in her direction for a good ten minutes. "Do I have to shoot you down again?"

"I was just admiring your lovely ears, that's all," he replies with a grin that _oozes_ charm. I bite back a grin of my own and exchange a look with Nathaniel.

Velanna blinks. "You...think they're lovely?"

"Certainly." He nods. "They're not clown-sized at all. I don't know why everyone says that."

She lets out a hurt gasp, hands flying up to clap over her ears. "I... I never... they're _not_ clown-sized."

"I know! I was_ agreeing _with you," Anders reminds her. Velanna whirls around, probably to stomp away in a huff, but stops when she catches me laughing so hard I can't hardly breathe, all but falling against Nathaniel. He's at least _trying_ not to smirk. He's failing, but at least he's _trying_. The elven mage let out a growl of frustration, her face beet red, wheels back around and storms ahead.

"Velanna, wait," I manage between giggles. I take a deep breath to bring the laughter under control-much as I can-and jog forward to catch up with her. "Velanna."

She's muttering under her breath in elvish and looks up at me sharply when I rest a hand on her arm. "_What?_"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed at you like that."

"No, you shouldn't have," she growls, still looking pissed.

"And I'm sorry," I repeat. _I'll try not to hurt your delicate feelings in the future... _"We have to stick together and be a team, though. And with me and Anders involved, you're going to_ have _to learn to laugh at yourself. Or at least grit your teeth and bear it. I will try to remember your ears are off-limits, that I'll promise you."

Some of the anger's bled out of her eyes when she looks at me again. "I... Thank you, Commander." She suddenly spins toward the woods. "What was that?"

"What was what?" I ask. I didn't hear anything out of the ordinary.

"I thought I heard something..." She's still eyeing the woods with suspicion.

I'm about to brush it off as her being paranoid-it happens to the best of us-when a small group of elves, Dalish hunters by the look of them, walk out of the woods.

The leader raises a hand in greeting. "_Adaran atish'an_, travelers. Do not be startled, we only wish to be about our way."

_Oh, sure, I'm never startled whena group of armed people appears as if out of nowhere,_ I can't help but think even as I nod.

"Marren?" Velanna says the name hesitantly, as if addressing a long-forgotten relative or friend.

"Velanna?" Both his eyebrows shoot up before drawing together in a scowl. "Well, well, this is certainly a surprise; you traveling with-"

"Humans, I know," she mutters, casting a glance back and Anders and Nathaniel. "Believe me, the irony has not escaped me, clan-mate."

Marren shakes his head. "We are no longer your clan, Velanna."

_Hold on a second..._ "Wasn't your clan killed in the Wending Wood?" I ask her.

"They were my closest friends," she explains softly, "but not all of my clan."

"Velanna was exiled," Marren elaborates. "She does not _have_ a clan. We-"

"Stop," she cuts him off. "I do not wish to speak of this. Marren, the others who left with me... they're dead. And Seranni is gone, taken by the darkspawn."

"If she's still alive, I told you, we'll find her," I add.

"Thank you, stranger," Marren nods before turning back to Velanna. "Ilshae warned her not go with you, Velanna. You see what you brought on her?"

"Then tell Ilshae that she was right," Velanna practically spits the last word, hurt and anger swirling together in her eyes. Ooh, I can see her smug-"

"Ilshae has passed on," Marren interrupts her. "You know nothing but hatred. The clan is better off without your poison."

"Velanna loves her sister," I protest. "She's not all bad."

"Yes, and look where that got Seranni," Marren shoots back. He shakes his head. "We have lingered too long. Andruil guide your path, Velanna." He turns and walks away without even a nod of farewell.

"Well..." Anders mutters. "That was-"

"Do not make a fuss over me!" Velanna snaps. "Let us be on our way."

"Whatever you say, m'lady," I mumble behind her back as we continue on our way.

**oOo**

We make good time, mostly due to trying to keep up with Velanna. Something keeps her going at a faster than normal pace. I have a feeling whatever it is relates to running into her former clan, but I don't want to press her about, curious as I may be.

Anders chuckles to himself as we pass the farthest outskirts of the Wending Wood, and I shoot him a curious look. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, really. This part of the woods just looks remarkably like a forest where I hid the third time I ran away from the tower. No... wait... the forest was the fourth time." He grins. "Took the templars three weeks to find me that time. They weren't too happy with me."

"Maker's breath, how many times did you run away, anyway?" I demand.

"Seven, remember? Then there was a year of solitary confinement, then I escaped _again_, and the way back to the tower from that one's when you recruited me."

"Oh, right." I do vaguely remember him telling me before. "And the templars just kept hunting you down and dragging you back?"

"Mm-hm."

"How?" Nathaniel asks.

"Huh?" Anders turns to look at the archer.

"How did the templars always find you?" Nathaniel elaborates.

"Incredibly angry, that's how they found me," Anders scoffs.

Nathaniel somehow manages to not let_ too _much irritation seep into his voice. Yet. "There must be some trick to it, surely."

"They began recruiting women," Anders shoots back airily. "The male templars never stopped to ask for directions."

Nathaniel sighs in exasperation. "You're impossible to talk to."

The mage grins. "I do m'best."

"Alright, boys," I interject. _Play nice..._ "We're gonna lose Velanna if we keep focusing on conversation rather than walking." I motion toward the Dalish mage, who's pulled a good fifteen or twenty feet ahead of the rest of us and isn't slowing down. "I'd rather not let her walk into a pack of wolves or something alone."

"Way to be pessimistic, Rahna," Anders teases.

"Someone has to balance your abundance of optimism," I shoot back, laughing to myself. _First Jowan calls me too optimistic, and now Anders is calling me a pessimist... Maker, which is it?_ "'Sides, it's more pragmitism than pessimism, ser mage."

"Whatever you say, Commander." He's still grinning at me, so I make a face at him before turning my attention back to the _other_ mage. "Velanna, slow down!"

She ignores me.

"Velanna! Slow down!"

She stops, crossing her arms and waiting for us with an expression of pure impatience. "You walk too slowly," she grumbles when we catch up, the complaint all she says before marching off again, still at her furious, driving pace.

The three of us just shrug, Anders and I roll our eyes, and we keep up with her.

**oOo**

By the time we have to stop and make camp, we've made more progress than I was expecting to today. _That'll be thanks to Velanna..._ I smirk. The only downside of making camp is that tonight's Anders' turn to cook. Badly as I may want to, I can't stick Nathaniel with that all the time. So cooking rotates just like first watch.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask Anders while we wait for the food-such as it'll be-to be ready.

"Sure."

"How is it you managed to escape so many times, know Fereldan geography better than almost anyone I've ever met, but somehow _didn't_ learn how to cook?"

"Smoke's a dead giveaway of your location," he points out. "I made do with what I managed to find or steal. How come _you_ can't cook?" he asks with a grin.

"I can so!" I protest. "Okay, not very well, but I _can_. And Shianni-my cousin-handled all the cooking before I was conscripted, so I never had to worry. 'Course, she handled all the cooking _because_ I'm not much good at it... Can I plead vicious cycle?" I plead with a sheepish smile.

"I suppose I'll allow that," Anders teases, nudging me playfully with his elbow.

"Thanks. I'm so relieved," I joke back. "Well, I'll leave you to your-" I clear my throat "-cooking. I want to check on Velanna."

"Good idea. Make sure she's not in the mood to burn down a tent or something."

I laugh. "I'll do that." I walk over to where the blonde elf sits, taking out her pent-up anger on a small pile of elfroot she's shredding rather viciously. "You alright?"

"Fine, Commander," she replies shortly, eyes staying on the plants.

"Want help?" I offer, sitting next to her.

"If you really want." I've barely sat down and picked up a plant before she demands, "Aren't you the least bit curious about my exile?"

I shrug, peeling apart the elfroot in my hands. "Honestly, I'm _dying_ of curiosity, as anyone who knows me could tell you, but I didn't want to broach the subject with you if it's that sore a topic."

"Oh... well, thank you," she says softly. She's silent for a long moment. "The humans near where you met me were trying to drive my clan away. For a while we resisted. Then they tried to burn us out. They would have destroyed the entire forest just to keep us from their farms." She savagely pulls apart the remains of the plant she's holding. "The others were afraid. Keeper Ilshae said that if I wanted to fight the shemlen, I would fight them alone."

"But you didn't go alone," I comment cautiously.

"Seranni only followed me in the hopes of changing my mind," she all but whispers. "A few others wanted what I wanted and left with us. They're dead now."

"There's little you can do about that now," I point out.

"I suppose not," she agrees. "I'm sure you have better things to do than worry about me, though, Commander."

"At the moment... no, I don't, really. And actually, I have something for you. I found it in the desk in my room." It only takes a moment to retrieve the leatherbound book from my pack. "Here." I hold it out to her.

Velanna wipes her hands against the skirt of her robes before taking it, running one finger over the tree embossed on the cover. She flips it open, scowling when she sees the pages are blank. "It's empty. Why have you given me this worthless object?"

"So that you can fill it," I reply, trying not to snap. _C'mon, I'm being nice here, woman... A little courtesy wouldn't hurt..._

She scoffs. "Fill it? With what? Recipes for roast boar and pudding?"

"Well, if you know _those_ off the top of your head, maybe _you_ should be cooking tonight," I mutter.

"I _can_ hear you, y'know!" Anders calls.

"Stop eavesdropping and pay attention to the food!" I shoot back, before returning my attention to Velanna. "But no, you can fill it with stories. For the Dalish."

"Stories?" she repeats slowly. "For the... Oh, that's the silliest idea I've heard. But... but brilliant at the same time. The Dalish will never recover what we've lost," she murmurs, tracing the intricate leaves of the tree design. "It may be time to start creating tales anew. Perhaps one day, they will be what connects my children and their children to their past... to _me_. I may have spoken too soon... I see now that this is a gift to be treasured. I- Thank you, Commander," she says softly.

"You're very welcome."

**oOo**

Fortunately, the night passes without incident. Unless you count nearly falling asleep on my watch as an "incident". I have no idea why, considering I was sure my growling and very empty stomach would keep that from being a problem. I think I'm going to have to group Anders in with Oghren-both of them are so downright _horrible_ at cooking they're just not allowed to do it. I know that means more work for the rest of us, but I'd rather more work than unpalatable and wasted food.

We come in sight of the Blackmarsh the next day. I can see how it got its name; the place is dark and foreboding enough to make me wish we were anywhere but here.

"You all ready for this?" I ask, fighting against the shiver that worms down my spine.

They all nod, and Velanna adds, "This is an unnatural place,Commander. The Veil is thin, and spirits abound. We must be wary."

"For once we agree," Anders mutters. "She's right, Rahna."

"Noted. We'll be careful, but we have to go in there," I reply. "Let's get this over with, then..."

_A/N: Yes, I did have trouble with this chapter... there's a reason there's so much in-game dialogue/banter. xD At least Velanna will be a little nicer now. I think. I figured it out, using her approval page on the wiki: between gifts and conversation choices, she'd be 'Warm', so her softer side's gonna start coming out now. Fun as it is to pick on her, and crazy as she drives me at first, I really do like her. A little. =P_

_ And I promise, next chapter will go back to Jowan and Miri. I've left you in suspense about them long enough, I think. Oh, and just out of curiosity, is there anyone who would want to see Jowan go back to wearing mage robes? Or do y'all like him being in 'normal' clothes?_


	40. Not That Easy

40. Not That Easy

"_Jowan!_"

Miri's shriek echoed in the tunnel for only a heartbeat before being drowned out by the roar of flame as the necromancer's fireball hit the ground and exploded.

The elf saw Ashe do her best to curl up and protect her head as the shockwave threw both warriors into the wall, Vincent just behind his sister. They collided with the rock in horrendous clatter of metal striking stone as the conflagration blocked Miri's view. _Maker..._ She didn't even know how to pray beyond hoping they weren't dead.

Two things saved the elven mage from suffering the brunt of either the flames or the resulting concussion. The first was simple; she was farther back than the others, so by the time the heat and shockwave reached her, they had diminished to the point of doing far less damage. The second was also simple enough, if far scarier; Jowan was much closer, _and_ between Miri and the worst of the explosion. Even as the lessened shockwave pushed Miri aside with no more force than a rough shove that might yield a bruise or two, Jowan went flying into the opposite wall hard enough Miri heard him yelp in pain as his head bounced off the stone with an audible crack.

She swore her heart stopped when he hit the ground.

**oOo**

_Sodding genlock..._ Jowan grumbled to himself as he tried to make the world stop swimming. He closed his eyes and shook his head, which only made the throbbing worse, but at least things held still now. He couldn't see Ashe or Vincent, but Miri was staring at him, her dark eyes wide with raw terror. He'd _never_ seen her so scared. It took a second to process that she was worried about _him_, rather than being afraid of the necromancer.

He groaned and gritted his teeth against the continued sharp throb as he pushed himself to his feet. "I don't die that easily, Mir," he muttered under his breath, seeing the relief in his best friend's eyes.

"Look out!" she warned, and he turned to look back toward the emissary so fast his vision momentarily doubled. Still, the stonefist flying in his direction was easy enough to see. Jowan instinctively dodged to the side and the projectile missed him by a whisper.

"How do _you_ like it, you bloody nuisance?" the mage growled, forcing himself to concentrate long enough to send a-substantially larger-stonefist of his own hurtling toward the darkspawn. The effort left him slightly dizzy, but he still smirked in satisfaction when it slammed into the necromancer's chest and sent it tumbling backwards. Miri was already summoning an ice spell by the time it regained its feet.

She didn't need it. Ashe appeared almost as if out of nowhere, her fist slamming into the darkspawn's jaw hard enough to spin it around before the axe in her other hand removed its head. Miri's spell crystallized around the now-decapitated emissary as it flopped lifelessly to the ground. Ashe flexed the hand she'd used to punch the necromancer, and spat on its corpse as smoke curled lazily off her battered chainmail.

"Take that, you thrice-cursed bastard," the berseker smirked, turning to search for her other axe. Vincent moved to help.

Jowan chuckled, which made his head hurt worse. "Ouch."

"Lemme see," Miri demanded, crossing her arms and waiting expectantly for him to obey.

"Mir, I don't think it's that bad," he protested, reaching back to rub the sore spot. He flinched when he touched it. "Ow!"

"Jowan, you cracked your head against that wall hard enough that _I_ heard it- Is that blood?" Miri demanded when he pulled his hand away, fingers tipped in red.

_Oh, Maker, here we go..._ "Miri-"

"Sit. Down." Her tone made it quite clear she would brook no argument as the elf's fingers dug into his badly singed sleeve and she tugged him down. Knowing she wouldn't leave him alone until he let her look, Jowan obeyed.

**oOo**

Miri tried to keep herself calm as she gingerly probed for whatever injury Jowan had sustained when he banged his head, but the way he kept flinching was making her very nervous. "Ew," she muttered, "You're all sweaty."

Jowan snickered. "Extreme heat in an enclosed area, Mir, what'd you expect? Ow!" he yelped, pulling away as her thumb grazed a particularly tender spot.

"Hold still, you big wuss," Miri scolded, giggling as she tugged on the collar of his shirt. "I can't heal what I can't see."

"Fine, fine..." he muttered, biting his lip when she relocated the trouble spot.

"Holy Maker above..." Miri let the oath trail off as she moved the hair out of the way and brushed the tip of one finger down the full length of the gash. "Jowan, what you were calling 'not bad' is actually a three or four inch gash down the back of your head. I'm surprised you didn't kill yourself casting with this beauty."

"Long as I'm not leaking brains, I still say it's not bad," he retorted.

"Now that you mention it..." Miri teased, feeling her heart settle back in a more normal rhythm as she summoned a healing spell.

"Brat," Jowan groused under his breath, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"Hey, don't insult the healer!" she shot back, laughing hard enough she almost lost the spell. "I might decide to go heal Ashe or Vincent first; let you suffer a bit more."

"Miri, believe me, I've had far worse than this headache."

**oOo**

_If she only knew..._ Jowan was sure if Miri knew half the things he'd had to just deal with since leaving the tower, she wouldn't be making such a big deal over him right now. Of course, he couldn't _see_ the gash, so maybe it was worse than he thought. All he knew was his head hurt enough to rate above the run-in with the darkspawn when he'd saved Rahna's neck, but still below the time the templars almost caught him near River Dane. 'Course _that_ time had damn near been the end of him, so he couldn't say he was surprised it still held the top spot.

"How much worse?" Miri asked, pulling him back to the present.

He chuckled. "Trust me, Mir, you don't really wanna know."

She raised an eyebrow, but let it go with a shrug. "If you say so... All done." She tugged on his ponytail.

Jowan rolled his eyes. "Why does _everyone_ do that?"

"Everyone being...?" Miri asked with a grin.

"You and Rahna. Both of you do it."

"We're hardly everyone, Jowan," the elf shot back with a chuckle. "I'm just... it's still new for me, relatively speaking. You having a ponytail, I mean. And it's so easy to pull on." She shot him a devious smile as she proved her point.

"Mi-_ri_!" He sighed in exasperation. "Go see if Ashe or Vincent need healing." She grinned at him again and he muttered under his breath, "Brat."

Miri shoved his shoulder, nearly sending him tumbling back into the wall again. "Brat yourself," she huffed, grinning as she marched over toward Ashe.

Jowan chuckled to himself as he fixed his ponytail, feeling the slight ridge of healed skin where his head had hit the tunnel wall. _Okay, maybe Miri had a right to be worried... _

**oOo**

"You okay?" Miri asked the two warriors, though she was more worried about Ashe. She'd hit the wall more and harder than the others.

"Couple broken ribs, and I think I sprained my wrist when I decked that genlock," the woman admitted sheepishly.

"How 'bout you?" Miri asked Vincent.

"Just this." He tipped his head to the side so she could see the raw, burned skin on the side of his neck.

"Ow, that looks like it hurt..." the elf muttered. "Nothing I can't take care of, of course."

"That's a relief." Vincent's eyes slid closed as the healing magic settled over the burn. "Maker, that feels good."

Miri chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure it does." When the pale blue light of the spell faded, the burn had healed. The skin was still scarred and rough, but Miri had done all she could do. "There you go." She turned back to Ashe, who'd somehow stripped off the upper part of her chainmail despite her injuries. "Let's see how bad this is." The twin bumps from the broken ribs showed midway down Ashe's back, and Miri winced as she gingerly realigned the bones. "Andraste's eyes, how d'you fight with injuries like this?"

Ashe sucked in a short, sharp breath at the pain as the bones grated back into position. "Ah! I don't even really know," she admitted through gritted teeth as Miri healed the breaks. "When you're in the grip of the rage... you can't feel anything else. That's the best explaination I have." She gave the elf a lopsided smile. "I can't count the number of times I'd reach the end of a fight and realize I was bleeding all over the place, or cut down to the bone in one place or another. I've scared Vince to death multiple times."

"Gabriel's the same way," Miri smiled. "He just tears through everything; doesn't even stop until he either wins or passes out from blood loss. Or both," she amended. "Maker, do I worry about him sometimes. I'm pretty sure you have to be some kind of crazy to be a berserker."

Ashe chuckled. "I'd have to concur."

"Lemme see your wrist." Miri reached for Ashe's arm. "So why are you one, then?"

"When I was growing up, my parents had a lot of expectations for Vince and me. He'd join the army, kick arse, and generally make a name for himself on the battlefield. When I was little, they'd let me practice with him, for fun, but they made it clear I was going to marry well-preferrably nobility-and provide for them while Vince was off leading military campaigns."

"You disagreed?"

"Oh, no. I liked fighting, but _loved_ the parties and 'frippery' as Vince called it." She sighed. "But it turns out no Nevarran nobleman with an ounce of 'self-respect' will marry a girl with callouses. _Especially_ if she accidentally kicks his ass in a duel. Father tried to hide it, but he was bitterly disappointed when that door got slammed in our faces. _I_ was bloody furious. That rage got channelled into my fighting style, and before I knew it, fighting in a blind rage was habit. Vince and I started fighting as a team, realized we were five times better together than separate. Before too long, a Warden wound up as a guest of some minor noble who knew Father, and there was a tournament in her honor. Long story short, Vince and I entered, took all comers, and she recruited us on the spot."

"Wow. Well, you should be good as new now, so we should probably get going."

"We should indeed," Vincent agreed. "Soon as you have your armor back on, of course, Ashe."

She wrinkled her nose at him as she wriggled back into the chainmail. The buckles only gave her a moment's pause. "Okay, all set."

**oOo**

The Wardens pressed on down the tunnel, still more than a little unsettled by the fact they couldn't sense anymore nearby darkspawn now that the necromancer was dead. By the time they could sense any relatively close, they had nearly reached the channel Vincent mentioned.

"It makes absolutely no sense for them to be down here," the warrior kept muttering as he led the way. "These tunnels have been blocked for years."

Sensible or not, the presence of the darkspawn was impossible to deny; increasing to the point both mages felt like the creatures were yelling in their heads.

_Dig..._

_**The **__**Father calls...**_

_ Dig..._

_**The Mother needs us...**_

_ Dig..._

_**Now...**_

_ Dig..._

_ Dig..._

_ Dig..._

Miri glanced over at Jowan as the scratchy chorus increased in her head, just in time to see him grimace and rub his forehead. "You hear 'em too?" she whispered.

He nodded. "_Really_ loud."

"I don't like this..." Ashe muttered, overhearing the exchange. "We can feel them, but they're not _that_ loud."

"I think it's a mage thing," Miri explained. "But I don't particularly like it, either."

"Than you'll like this even less," Vincent hissed as he peered around a curve in the tunnel. "Look."

Miri sucked in a breath when she obeyed. The tunnel shortly ahead was filled with darkspawn; dozens of them.

"Oh, sod..." Ashe groaned.

"You said it," Jowan muttered.

"We can't take that many in straight-up combat." Vincent leaned back against the tunnel wall and glared at the ceiling as if it held the necessary inspiration. "We're good, but not that good."

Miri and Jowan traded glances. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked.

Jowan raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. What were you thinking?"

She let a bit of lightning crackle across her palm as she answered. "Storm of the Century."

"Mir, we've _never_ so much as tried that," Jowan reminded her. "It'll take a while to summon, and d'you really think the darkspawn are just going to stand there and let us cast? If we can sense them so strongly, surely they know we're here, too."

"You have any better ideas?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"Um... no."

"You mind explaining what you're planning?" Vincent interrupted.

"If you summon an ice storm and a lightning storm at the same time, they meld into a spell called Storm of the Century," Miri explained, "It's complete and utter chaos and destruction, but apprentices aren't allowed to combine spells that powerful, so even if Jowan and I know _how_ to do it in theory, we've never actually done it."

"Well, we don't really have any other options..." Ashe pointed out.

"Do it," Vincent decided. "We'll keep the darkspawn away from you."

"Right, then..." Miri turned to Jowan. "Which part do you want?"

"You're better at ice spells than I am," he reminded her. "I'll handle the lightning."

"Deal." Miri's hands were glowing a brilliant shade of whitish-blue even before the word was out of her mouth.

**oOo**

Jowan took a deep breath as he reminded himself of the spell he needed and then focused on summoning and directing it. Lightning sparked in the pale purple light that surrounded his hands, and he forced himself to concentrate on _his_ spell as Miri's voice rose in volume and he heard shrieks of dismay from the genlocks meeting their ends on Ashe and Vincent's blades.

_Don't lose your focus now..._ he scolded himself, feeling the spell slip ever so slightly. The falter made him pay attention, and the rest of the came rather easily. As the crackle of lightning joined the howling winds from Miri's spell further down the tunnel, the exhausted mages leaned back against the wall to catch their breath and let the warriors deal with any darkspawn that appeared around the bend in the tunnel.

Miri looked over at him and grinned. "Told ya," she whispered.

Too out of breath to reply, Jowan just grinned back.

**oOo**

When the raging storm finally died away, the four of them cautiously ventured forward. All they found were dead darkspawn, frozen solid or still smoking from the lightning.

"Good job," Vincent commented, nudging what used to be a hurlock with one boot. "This is not good. They were trying to tunnel under the channel. Back toward Ferelden."

"Why?" Ashe asked, frowning in confusion.

"We could hear them," Miri spoke up. "Me an' Jowan. They were saying something about the father and the mother needing them."

"That's not the least bit disturbing..." Vincent sighed. "We have to go back again. Tell the Commander what's going on. He can send a warning to the Wardens in Ferelden and Orlais, to be safe."

Miri noticed the panic in Jowan's eyes he was trying to hide and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as they turned to head back to the fortress. "Don't worry so much," she whispered. "She'll be fine. They didn't get through, remember?"

"They will eventually, though," Jowan muttered. "And we're pretty much straight across from Amaranthine."

"C'mon, Jowan, if there's anyone in Ferelden who can take care of themselves, it's Rahna."

"I know," he mumbled, but he still looked worried.

_I'm so right_, Miri thought to herself, swallowing her smirk and looking innocent as possible the whole trek back.

_A/N: Wow, not one but TWO fights... And I didn't have to cut it off into another cliffhanger! AND it came to me relatively quickly! Oh, yeah... and Jowan got to be awesome again. xD That was cool. The look into Ashe's(and Vincent's) past wasn't planned(I didn't have much of a 'bio' for them before now...), but I still like it. _

_ Aaaannnd the plot continues to thicken. *evil laugh* Since I've yet to actually find Kaiten on any map of the Free Marches, I have arbitrarily decided it's halfway between Kirkwall and Ostwick, which would make it pretty darn close(relatively speaking) to Amaranthine. But what ARE those pesky darkspawn up to; tunneling into Ferelden? We'll just have to wait and see, I guess._


	41. What Now?

41. What Now?

I don't need to be a mage to be very, very creeped out by the Blackmarsh. As far as we can see, the place is dead, dark and twisted. All I see growing is a few pathetic trees and snarled thorns that somehow manage to exist off the oily water pooled beside the path.

"My people say this place was once lush, beautiful..." Velanna comments softly, "until some unnatural perversion occurred."

"It would have to be unnatural to end up like _this_," I mutter, feeling a shudder wriggle up my spine.

"Tell me about it," Anders chips in, looking more than a little ill at ease. "Scary place."

"Want me to hold you?" I rib, smirking at him.

"Oh, would you?" he shoots back, wrinkling his nose at me. I hear Nathaniel sigh in exasperation at our antics. Even as I chuckle, it serves as a reminder that we should probably all be on our guard in here. Nathaniel's scanning the surronding like he expects a demon or wolves or something to spring from behind a tree at any moment.

For once I don't think he's just being paranoid. I tend to agree, actually; it does feel like _something_ is just waiting for the opportunity to pounce on us. We walk on in silence, but haven't gone far down the faint, overgrown path before running into a pack of wolves devouring a fetid carcass. Normally a small pack like this wouldn't give us much trouble, but more come running halfway through the fight, and I find myself worrying about getting overwhelmed. Until Anders stuns them all with a burst of telekinetic energy. By the time a few recover, they're all that's left. And they don't last long against us. Even if I miss having Sigrun to back me up on close quarters fighting, having two mages works just as well.

I kick one of the dead wolves, frowning as I notice something... odd about it. "This... these are blight wolves. What in _Andraste's_ name happened to this place?" The question is mostly aimed at Nathaniel; he _is_ the one who grew up less than three days travel away from this place.

The archer shrugs, crouching to retrieve as many of his arrows as can be salvaged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Rahna. All I know is what my father told me when I was young; that evil magic killed everyone here."

I survey the glowering marsh with a skeptical look."'Evil magic'? What evil magic could have caused all this?"

"I don't know," he admits. "It was just before the rebellion, and they never found out what happened. Once the monsters appeared, the marsh was utterly abandoned." He straightens, salvaged arrows in hand. "I used to dream about coming to the Blackmarsh and setting things right." He chuckles at the memory. "Little boy dreams."

I can't help but giggle. "You wanted to be a hero? That's cute, Nate." _And why, oh why is it so sodding easy to picture?_

"Isn't that what all little boys want?" he returns, easily shrugging off my teasing as he pulls out a rag to clean off the arrows. "If anyone had told me I _would_ eventually end up here, I'd have laughed at them. But times change. When I was in Kirkwall, I thought I would return to Ferelden to take command of my father's garrison. And now here I am, a Grey Warden fighting both darkspawn and demons." He smirks. "Interesting."

_That's putting it lightly..._ "Stick around," I laugh. "This happens _all _the time."

"And the fun never ends, I suppose?" he chuckles. "Good to know. Anyway, we should probably get back to it, shouldn't we? The haunted marsh awaits."

"That it does," I concur with a grin, turning to lead the way further into the creepiest place I've seen in my life.

**oOo**

As if blight wolves and a sense of looming danger weren't enough, the Maker must feel obligated to throw something more at me. We've barely entered the ruined remains of the town when a snarling mess of wiry black fur, bad breath, and snapping yellow teeth slams into Anders.

I shoot an exasperated glare at sky even as I dive forward to get it off him. "Really? _Really_? Werewolves, too?" I yell at the clouds. Fortunately, Velanna was fast enough with an ice spell the thing freezes solid before it can do much damage. I purposely put a bit more power behind my blows, sighing in relief as the werewolf shatters into dully gleaming shards of ice.

"Commander, there's more coming!" Nathaniel warns as I offer Anders a hand up.

"Noted!" I holler as I spin around and run to meet the charging creatures. Anders seems to shake off nearly getting killed much faster than most people would, pummeling one with a stonefist as I bury my swords in the chest of the one next to it, letting the werewolf's own momentum help sink the blades in deeper. It yelps and tumbles to the ground a few seconds later, an arrow protruding from the curve where its shoulder and neck meet. There's no time for me to acknowledge the help as I rip my swords free and whirl to face the next beast. It's struggling, yelping as it fights against the lightning coursing through its twitching limbs thanks to Velanna. I finish it off, slashing one sword across its throat. Its corpse slumps to the ground only a few seconds before the last one meets its end in the grip of Anders' crushing prison spell.

"Everyone okay?" I ask, scrubbing sweat and blood off my forehead and trying to catch my breath. Nathaniel and Velanna nod.

"Will be in a minute, Rahna," Anders mutters, running his fingers over the nasty scratches on his arm. Before I even have a chance to open my mouth, he's healed them. "There we go."

"Alright, let's keep going. But stay close together, and alert," I add hastily. "These things can seem to come from thin air at times."

"You've fought werewolves before?" Velanna raises an eyebrow.

"Elven ruins in the Brecilian Forest," I reply shortly. "Long story, and one I'd rather not tell now." I nearly lost Alistair _and_ Zev in there _multiple _times; it's one part of my adventures I never want to think about again.

She looks ready to protest but checks herself, and simply nods as we move through the town.

**oOo**

By the time we find evidence Kristoff even made it to the Blackmarsh, we've been attacked twice more. These werewolves are even more annoying than the ones plauging the Dalish; they're far better at sneaking up, cloaked in shadows, and attacking before we even know they're there.

_Give me a brutal frontal assault over this sneak attack business any day..._ I grumble mentally as I whirl to bat away the reaching claws of a wiry black-furred werewolf, slicing off a couple of its fingers as I do.

Its snarl of pain is turned into a death howl when Velanna sets it ablaze with a fire spell. Grateful as I am for the help, burning werewolf hair smells bloody foul. "Could we maybe save the fire spells for a last resort?" I manage, coughing as the reek permeates the air.

"Noted," Anders acquiesces through a coughing jag of his own. "Andraste's knickerweasels, that _smells_!"

"My apologies." Velanna looks hurt and peeved at the same time. "I'll try to be more considerate of your delicate senses the next time I save the Commander's life."

"That's enough, you two," I caution, cutting off Anders' retort. "Thank you for the help, Velanna. I appreciate it. But considering how bad it smells, setting them on fire needs to _not_ be our first course of action."

"As you wish, then," she agrees, mollified.

In a small hollow nearby, we find a cot, a tent, and the ashes of a long-dead fire. Feeling somewhat guilty, I check through the small pack of belongings. If the owner is still alive, I'll apologize for the invasion of their privacy, but I don't have any other way to figure whose campsite this is. I find a locket and a crumpled letter in thin, feminine handwriting. I stop reading at the words '_My dearest Kristoff..._'. "This was his campsite," I inform the others.

"It looks abandoned," Anders comments.

"That's not a good sign," Nathaniel mutters, voicing the thought before I can.

"Well, let's see if we can figure where he went," I sigh, tucking the letter back in the travelworn pack.

"That way." Nathaniel points down a path that leads off to the right.

"Sod it all, Nathaniel, could you at least wait a few seconds next time so I don't feel like a complete idiot?" I tease, noticing the half-obliterated tracks.

"Sorry, Commander," the archer chuckles, not sounding all that apologetic.

I shoot him a dirty look as I head down the path, focused on the trail of footprints. I'm not as good at tracking as Nathaniel, so it takes more of my attention than is wise is in a place like this.

"Rahna, look out!"

**oOo**

Nathaniel's warning comes just in time for me to dodge the Childer grub that wriggles free of its cocoon and flings itself at me.

"More of these?" I groan, skewering the creature on one sword. As if in response to my protest, a fresh bunch of the... things break out and crawl toward us, chittering their weird cries. There are too many for me to watch them all at the same time, and its only a matter of time before one leaps on me, knocking me to the ground. I drop my swords, hearing them clatter against the ground as I instinctively cover my face. _Damn, do I miss Sigrun right now..._ I grunt as one of the grub's legs makes it past my arms and scratches against the side of my neck. I finally get one foot underneath the thing's stomach and kick it off, snatching up my swords and running it through twice, just to be safe.

That one's the last of them by this point, so I lower my guard as the cut on my neck starts to sting. "Anders, little help?"

He winces at the blood trickling down my neck. "Sure." He summons a healing spell as Nathaniel and Velanna continue following Kristoff's tracks. "This is bleeding an awful lot for a scratch," he mutters, frowning. Whatever he may be worrying about, it heals up just fine.

"Commander, you need to see this!" Velanna calls from up ahead. Anders and I hurry to catch up, but both skid to a halt when we see what Velanna's talking about.

The good news is that we found Kristoff. The bad news is that he's dead. The even _worse_ news is the darkspawn that appear out of the shadows, their leader dropping from the gnarled, skeletal branches of a dead tree.

_How come those didn't break?_ I wonder, eyeing the tree and the darkspawn at the same time. Its red and black armor looks like the same armor as the Lost in Kal'Hirol, so I'm less surprised when it speaks. It's still weird to hear a darkspawn_** talk**_, but less weird than it was what feels like years ago on the Vigil's battlements.

"Yes, that is your Grey Warden," the darkspawn sneers, ignoring the fact I have my swords in hand and Nathaniel's nocked an arrow as it gestures at Kristoff's corpse. "The Mother, she said that if he was lured to this place and slain, that you would come. And the Mother, she was right. The Mother is _always_ right."

_So he was killed because they want __**me**__?_ Rage bubbles in my chest as I think of the letter, of the woman who's now a widow because some sick, twisted 'Mother' wants me dead or out of the way or whatever. "Did she say you'd pay for killing a Grey Warden?" I spit furiously at the creature.

"The Mother, she is no prophet," the darkspawn retorts. "But she is most clever. Oh, yes, that she is. I... here before you is the First, and I am bringing to you a message. The Mother, she is not permitting you to further _**his**_ plans, whether this you know or not. So she is sending you a gift." As it finishing speaking, the darkspawn extends its hand, black, smoke-like tendrils rising from its palm.

"Rahna..." The warning in the way Anders says my name comes too late. The tendrils twist into an orb that glows a sickly shade of green, growing steadily brighter. As it increases to the point of overwhelming, I feel like I'm flying or rushing toward something, and I can only hope it's not something horrible.

**oOo**

When the light of whatever it was the First did fades, I want to scream and swear and _kill something_. We're in the Fade. Again. The only thing I hate more than the Fade is politics. A quick look behind me reassures me that I wasn't the only one who came. Our whole group did. Including the First.

"What... we are coming to the Fade as well?" it exclaims in confusion. "No... no... It cannot be this!"

"You weren't 'first' in your class, I take it," I snicker, watching out of the corner of my eye as Anders shakes his head at the lame joke.

"The Mother, she has deceived me!" the darkspawn rants. "I am betrayed! Now I am being trapped in the Fade with _you_! Ah, I am the fool!"

I smirk. "Looks like _someone_ was considered expendable."

"I am the First! I am not being 'expendable'!" it growls. "Both the Grey Warden and the Mother shall be learning this! I will be leaving you to the Children! I will be finding my own path back into the world! Back to the Mother! And then she will pay for her treachery!" It stalks away as a small group of Childer grubs inch forward and a pair of genlock archers draw their bows.

"Sodding darkspawn," I mutter under my breath as we meet the attack. Anders, Velanna and I each focus on one of the grubs, and Nathaniel takes care of the genlocks. The first falls before it gets a single shot off, letting out a garbled shriek and groping at the arrow sticking out of its throat as Nathaniel turns to deal with the other one.

Velanna finishes off the grubs with a burst of lightning. I'm glad non-mages' senses are dulled in this place; I would _not_ want to smell charred darkspawn full strength.

After we've dealt with all the darkspawn and caught our collective breath, Anders asks the question I'm still trying to answer myself. "So, what now?"

_A/N: *shameless Nathaniel fangirl* I giggled an unhealthy amount over him this chpter, I must admit. I can't. help. it. Aside from loving the fact he's finally starting to loosen up a bit around Rahna, the 'Little Boy Dreams' conversation is quite possible my favorite with ANYONE in the whole game(except maybe the Nate one off the statue in Amaranthine, and Anders' "Was Andraste that much of a looker?" xD). And I absolutely loathe the shadow wolves in the Blackmarsh. LOATHE THEM. They have this annoying tendency to do Overwhelm a LOT, more than any other enemy in either Origins or Awakening, at least for me. Of course, the fact they usually do it on Nate doesn't earn them any points with me, either. :\ Um... I think that's all for now._


	42. No Rest for the Wicked

42. No Rest for the Wicked

The Fade is a tricky place. Paths can seem to appear, disappear, and shift at will. Part of why I hate it so much. I get lost easily enough even when the roads stay where they're supposed to be.

After the third path I choose peters out into a dead end, I groan and bury my head in my hands. "Nathaniel, d'you think you can make more sense of this place than me?"

"I think you would have better luck asking Anders or Velanna, Commander," he admits. "This is my first time in the Fade. I don't think I'll be much help."

_Alright, then... _I turn to Anders. "Help?"

He chuckles. "Sure." Even with his help, it's easy to get turned around. Especially since ever hill or curve in the path seems to hide a collection of shades, desire demons, or both. It's hard to keep your eyes on your goal when you're making sure you don't get clobbered or hexed or something. We end up mobbed more than once.

"Blast it, would you just _**die**_ already?" I holler at a particularly hardy desire demon. A fireball flies past and explodes behind her, setting the demon ablaze, but it's the arrow that buries half its length in her chest that really finishes her off. "Thanks." I grin at Nathaniel and Velanna.

"You're... you're welcome," the elf mumbles. Nathaniel just nods in silent acknowledgment.

"Come on, I want to find a way out of here." I survey the path ahead. It splits in four different directions a short way ahead. "Anders?"

He shrugs. "Can't help you, Rahna. Close your eyes and pick."

This method heads us down a narrow valley that makes me nervous. Close spaces like this are good places for an ambush. As Anders and I try to figure out which way to go at the next fork, I hear Nathaniel chuckle softly behind me.

"Your glares suggest you still don't care for my presence," he comments dryly.

"I'm simply wondering how _your kind_ can call yourselves 'nobles'," Velanna retorts. "It seems ironic."

"We like irony," Nathaniel informs her as Anders and I exchange looks and try to look like we're not shamelessly eavesdropping, "And it rolls off the tongue better than 'oppressors'."

"Ah, so you're a _funny_ human," she snorts derisively.

"Not I," he shoots back, wry smile in his tone. "I wouldn't dare lighten your mood, _m'lady_."

Velanna grunts disparagingly. "You two, have you figured out where we're going yet?" she demands.

"No," Anders and I reply in chorus.

"Hurry up. I grow weary of this place."

"Well, Velanna, it's tricky to navigate the Fade," I retort, feeling my temper rise. "If you know a better way, by all means, enlighten me."

She shuts up.

**oOo**

After a _lot _of wrong turns, dead ends, and fighting off shades and a few rage demons, we stumble upon the outskirts and docks of a ghostly village. We're attacked by a group of shades, but they're weaker than the others we've faced here, so it doesn't take long for us to defeat them.

"My lady, I am _trying_!" a woman's voice echoes pleadingly as the last of the shades vanishes.

"What?" I whirl toward the voice, spotting the ethereal form of a woman in rough peasant clothing. She's kneeling, pleading with someone I can't see.

"Who's she talking too?" Anders asks.

"Beats me," I shrug.

"No, my lady! I would never contradict- _No, _my lady, _**please**_!" the woman's voice trails off in a string of panicked sobs as she curls into a ball, hands protecting her head from something we can't see. "_Please!_"

"What _is_ this place?" I mutter as we turn away. It goes against everything in me to leave with the woman's cries still ringing in my ears, but I can't help her if I can't see what's hurting her.

"Best guess?" Nathaniel sighs. "This must be what the village was like, before it was forgotten."

"So the village still _exists_?" Velanna sounds incredulous. "Only, beyond the Veil?"

"Apparently," Nathaniel replies as we skirt the docks. "Is that so surprising?"

"Do you have any idea what kind of magic it would take to pull an entire _village_ through the Veil?" she shoots back.

"I am no mage, _my lady_," he replies, sounding mildly irritated at her tone. "Why should I know?"

Velanna snorts, muttering something about shems that I'm thinking it's a good thing none of us hear.

**oOo**

In our exploration of the docks and outbuilding of the village we encounter a young woman who looks ethereal, like the woman earlier, but acknowledges our presence, despite the fact she talks like the village is still in the real world. Before she has a chance to give me any kind of satisfactory answers, she flinches, backing toward the crypt behind her. "No, they're coming! Follow me, into the crypt!"

_Sweetheart, I was __**not**__ born yesterday..._ That sounds suspiciously like a trap to me, and from skepticism written across Nathaniel's face, he agrees with me.

But the 'they' the girl mentioned-a group of skeletal warriors-is real enough, and we have to deal with them before we follow her. Our trip into the crypt is occassionally hampered by other skeletons, and when we finally catch up to the ghostly young woman, I want answers.

All I get out of her, however, is a gleeful cackle. "And so you came. Fell into my little trap! Such wonderful creatures, you mortals. So full of yearnings. So full of... hunger."

"Not again!" Velanna groans. "You have a knack for stumbling into traps, don't you?"

"It's a gift," I shoot back as the young woman melts and fades, her form shifting to that of a hunger demon. _And a curse..._ I add to myself as I unsheath my swords and head for the demon. It raises its hands and hits me with a weakness spell. I'm mentally swearing up a storm as I feel the torpor settle in my limbs. I haven't had to deal with a weakness spell since... well, since Hafter's Bend, when it was _Jowan_ and we were trying to make it as barely realistic as possible.

Anders yells something I don't catch as I slow down, struggling just to defend myself from the skeletons that attack from the coffins lining the walls of the crypt, and a bluish-purple burst of light swirls through the small room. The ice enchantment Velanna cast on my swords vanishes, but so does the sense of weakness, so I don't really mind. I thow myself at the five-skeleton group surrounding Nathaniel and trust the mages to deal with the demon.

The spirit of the girl is still in the room when we finish off all the skeletons and the demon. She thanks us for releasing her from the demon's grasp before she vanishes.

"What, that's it?" Anders mutters sarcastically. "Usually when you free someone, there's a reward of some kind. Gold. Jewels. Or a kiss at least."

"You really wanna kiss a Fade spirit?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs and shoots me a mishchievous grin. "I'm not picky."

I roll my eyes and smack the back of his head. "Come on, I need to find a way out of here." The narrow hallways and low ceiling are _not_ helping my claustrophobia. We end up following a couple more dead-end corridors before we finally find the one that leads out. The exit lets out in a cemetary inside the walls of the village.

"Oh... well, that worked out for the best," I mutter as the soldier standing guard nearby notices us.

"Halt! Who enters the Blackmarsh?" he demands, apparently not ruffled at all by the fact we just appeared out of a bloody _crypt_.

"We're Grey Wardens who have been trapped here," I explain.

"Trapped?" the guard repeats in surprise. "Then you're just as we are, locked in this endless nightmare. We've been here so long... at her mercy. I almost forget what it was like before. There is a spirit who's come to free look capable enough, perhaps you could help him? If only it were possible..."

"We'll certainly try," I promise. It's pretty easy to find the spirit the guard mentioned; everyone in the village has gathered near the gates of the mansion that rises high above its surrounding walls, so I figure this spirit must be there.

**oOo**

"Your mansion will not protect you, fiend! Come out and face your crimes!" The armor-clad spirit shakes a fist at the barred gates.

"We aren't afraid of you any longer!" one of the villagers adds. When there's no reply, she clenches her fists and yells, "The witch hides! Break down the door!"

The spirit raises his hands in warning. "Be cautious, my friends! The baroness has power within her lair, and she well knows it. We rush in at our peril." That's when he notices us. "And who comes now?" he demands, sounding more impatient than cross, "More minions of the baroness? Or yet more helpless souls she has tormented?"

_Helpless? No. _"We're Grey Wardens who were trapped here."

The spirit seems confused for a minute. "I cannot say what a _Grey Warden_ is," he admits.

_Oh, right. Fade spirit, Rahna you idiot... They don't know much about the workings of the real world..._

"Clearly you are a stranger," the spirit muses as I berate myself. "Perhaps it is a sign. I am Justice. I have watched this place and seethed at the wrongs visited on these poor folk, and now I seek to aid them."

"Once we lived in the real world and the baroness ruled over us," a red-haired woman in chainmail explains. "She...she took our children and used their blood to work dark and evil magic." She presses a hand over her mouth and can't continue.

The man standing behind her rests a comforting hand on her shoulder as he continues, "And when we finally burned down her mansion, she cast one last spell that brought our spirits here. We have been trapped, under her rule, ever since."

"Commander, the spirit knows the Fade," Nathaniel points out. "If we help him, he might help us in return."

Velanna snorts. "We have no quarrel with this baroness," she objects. "I suggest we move on and leave these people to their business."

_And how much of your motivation for feeling that way is just wanting to disagree with Nathaniel? _I wonder. I don't think she's _ever_ going to forgive him for that remark about her ears.

"Tell me, stranger," Justice begins, "Will you help us in this righteous task? Being a Grey Warden seems to make you an able sort, and thus your aid would be most welcome."

"Of course, I'd be glad to help you." Even if I didn't agree with Nathaniel that this spirit of Justice can-and will-probably help us if we help him, I'm not leaving people trapped in this place.

He nods. "Then we have the numbers to challenge the baroness directly."

"We're going to waste our time with these... these cattle?" Velanna demands incredulously.

"Velanna, were you not listening? This spirit knows the Fade. He can help us get out of here," I shoot back. "Don't you want to get out of here?"

She sighs, shoots a frustrated look at Nathaniel, and then nods. "Oh, very well. If you are certain."

"My intention is to storm the gate," Justice explains. "Are you ready?"

I nod. "Let's do it."

**oOo**

With everyone ready, Justice kicks open the massive gates, a feat I'm assuming is only possible because we're in the Fade and he's a Fade spirit. We follow him into the courtyard, pulling up short of the balcony that overlooks the grounds of the estate.

"My, my," clucks the dark haired woman standing on the balcony, watching us with cool disdain in her eyes, "All that shouting outside and now you've finally decided to barge in? Without even a proper invitation?"

"Foul sorceress!" Justice rails, "You will release these poor folk and submit yourself to justice!"

"Justice?" the baroness snorts. "Is that what you're calling it? And what of their punishment; burning my home to the ground, and me within it?"

"Because you were stealing our children!" the man from outside protests, "Using their blood to feed your vanity!"

"As was my due!" she shoots back. "You lived on my land, I your rightful ruler! Your blood was mine, just as your lives are now!"

"Well, somebody's on a power trip," I mutter to Anders before addressing the baroness. "Their lives are not yours any longer!"

"What's this?" she sniffs, scanning us. "The pathetic fools have managed to recruit yet more sympathizers?"

"We are no longer alone, Baroness!" Justice informs her. "Your reign ends here!"

"As it happens," the Baroness retorts smugly, "I am no longer alone either."

A very familiar darkspawn steps up to stand beside her.

"What's _that_ doing here?" Anders mutters, glaring at the First.

"My path back across the Veil lies in victory over you and your new allies. Then the Mother will pay for her treachery!" the First boasts as it leaves the balcony and approaches us.

"I figured you'd turn up sooner or later," I grumble at it, hands twitching toward my swords.

"Enough of this. Slay them, creature, and you shall have the reward you requested," the Baroness says to the First.

The ensuing battle is a familiar chaos of fire, ice, and darkspawn, blades and arrows singing through the air, dodging the wicked flaming greatsword wielded by the darkspawn leader. At one point, Velanna nearly hits _me_ with a stonefist spell because I'm too busy trying not to get sliced open to pay attention to my comrades. I dodge the flying rock with a yelp, and it slams into one of the Baroness' ash wraith.

"Velanna, ice spells work better against them!" I holler to heard over the noise of the battle.

We finally win, the darkspawn all dead save the leader. Bleeding from a half dozen blows I landed, ice crusting its armor, at _least_ two arrows sticking out of its body, the First turns to the Baroness. "They... are too much! It must be sending me back through the Veil! Now, before it is too late!" it pleads, panting and swaying in a desperate attempt to stay on its feet.

"Oh, I will sunder the Veil, alright," the Baroness snorts contemptously, "I'll send them all back! But you? Your life is going to provide the power!" he extends her hands, pulling the remaining life out of the protesting darkspawn, and an area of the air in front of me turns green, bubbling and stretching. I feel that same rushing sensation from when we were drawn here, and hope and pray it means we're leaving this place behind.

The spell culminates in a brilliant flash of light.

**oOo**

A raindrop hits the my cheek. I instinctively flinch and move to brush it away.

_It doesn't rain in the Fade..._ I finally open my eyes to be greeeted by the most glorious sight I've seen today: dead, twisted trees, a gloomy black sky, and a rotting split-rail fence. We're back in the Blackmarsh. _Oh, thank the Maker._ My back and arms are sore from our fight with the First, and I find myself muffling a groan as I push up on my elbows.

"Commander." Nathaniel offers me a hand up, which I accept. "You alright?"

I nod. "Think so." I roll my shoulders. "Just sore."

Anders and Velanna are already sniping at each other as they push off the muddy ground and stand as well, and I'm reminded why I prefer Sigrun to M'lady the Grump.

"Would you two cut it out?" I snap. "Can't-" There's a flash of light behind me, and I spin around, almost afraid of what I'll find.

Kristoff's body jolts as if shocked and then stands up.

_What in the name of all that's holy..._ I let the thought trail off as I stare at it. Him?

"Where... where am I? What is happening?" The voice that comes from the dead Warden's mouth sounds like Justice, I realize with a start. His eyes widen with recognition as what happened dawns on the... spirit. "No! This... is the world of mortals, beyond the Veil! And this..." He runs his hands over his face as if still not comprehending. "This is a mortal body of flesh. I am trapped within." He turns to look at us, at me, but if he's looking for answer, I can't give him any.

"How... how did you get here?" I demand.

"When the witch sundered the Veil in her haste, all of us were drawn through," he explains impatiently.

"Wait... all of us... did she come too?"

"Yes, mortal, can you not feel her nearby?"

"So what're you so worried about, we've already beaten her once," I remind him, while morbidly wondering what happens if a walking corpse gets angry.

He shakes his head. "You misunderstand. The baroness is not a mortal as you are. She was once, but now? That is a demon of pride, a role she assumed long ago to feed from the mortals she trapped. But here, in your world she would be quite something else."

"Well, I guess we have no choice but to find her, huh?" I asked, crossing my arms.

The spirit explains about the tears in the Veil-which we noticed only in passing earlier-and that we have to close them, or demons will continue pouring into this world.

We set off to do just that. It's not that hard, despite the fact every single Veil tear is guarded by at least one Revenant. As we approach the ruins of the village, Velanna stiffens.

"We should be cautious, Commander," she warns. "I can feel a powerful spirit nearby."

"That will be the Baroness," the spirit of Justice enlightens us. "Be ready."

_Great..._ With all the warnings about her being powerful and evil and everything, I have this image of a huge, hulking demon laughing as it waits for us.

Needless to say, when we round the remains of a house near the center of the village and find only the Baroness as she appeared in the Fade-very much _human_ looking, in other words-I feel a bit...relieved.

"So this is the world of mortals," she sighs. "How very dull it seems, immutable and unchanging. Yet I am here," she crows. "The spirits will watch in envy as the mortals of this realm bow down before me."

_Uh, you wanna bet?_

"That will not happen, demon!" the spirit of justice contradicts her.

She looks at us, her expression bored. "Ah. It seems I was not the only one to be drawn here. How very tiresome."

"Defeating you one more time won't be a problem," I comment smugly.

"Is that so?" she retorts, condescention thick in her tone. "We shall see, shan't we?" Suddenly, she convulses, her body shaking as she falls to her knees, gagging and groaning as if in pain. We all take a cautious step back when her eyes glow green. The rest of her body begins to glow as well. I draw my swords, only to nearly drop them when her transformation is completed.

We're facing a huge, hulking pride demon, much like the one masqueraded as Uldred what seems like ages ago in the Circle. It laughs and pounds the ground as it faces us. I hear Anders swear and Velanna mutter in elvish as they grasp their staffs. We have to fight that thing.

_Oh, sod._

_A/N: Does this count as a cliffhanger, with it being an in-game boss fight, so you technically know what happens? Please say no. xD I know I used a LOT of in-game dialogue this chapter, despite saying I don't like to do that, but it'll probably happen a lot with Justice, since I LOVE his speech pattern in banters and conversations(him, Nate, and Morrigan would be my favorites in that regard), so I don't really feel a need to change or abridge his talking. And I am going to try to include him in the "active party" since he has a lot of really foreshadow-y type banters with Anders and Nathaniel._


	43. Stubborn

43. Stubborn

_Well, at least there's five of us and only one of her... It._ I swallow hard and tighten my grip on my swords.

The pride demon that was the Baroness chuffs out a laugh at my reaction before attempting to stomp on me. I dive out of the way, feeling cold swirl against my skin as Anders summons a spell that freezes the demon solid. I scramble to my feet, and join the spirit of Justice in causing as much damage as we can while the demon is unable to retaliate, or even move. This is facilitated by the pulsing red mortality glyph Velanna casts, and the crushing prison spell Anders summons.

Unfortunately, like most of the tougher, more dangerous creatures and enemies I've faced, the ice doesn't keep it trapped for long, and almost before I'm ready, the demon breaks free-of that spell, if not the other ones-and growls in rage as it bats at us with one arm. Nathaniel is, by necessity, farther back than the rest us, and thus is the only one the demon _doesn't _send tumbling. My head collides with Velanna's elbow, and the pain has bright spots freckling my vision. By the time said spots clear, the demon has made a bad situation worse: while we're regaining our feet, it snatches up Anders, giving a vicious chuckle before it hurls him into the ruined remains of a house so hard I see _Velanna_ wince.

What scares me the most is that he doesn't get up.

_Oh, damn. Sweet bloody __**damned **__Andraste, not my healer!_ I have more reasons than just that for wanting him to be alright, but at the moment, the fact the mage who's better at healing spells is out cold is my main concern. "Velanna!" I holler as I throw myself at the demon.

"I know, Commander!" she yells back, freezing the demon again before she turns her attention to healing Anders. That's one of the things I admire about her; whatever spats she may be having with someone, those grudges don't carry into battle. The fact she and Anders are constantly sniping at each other doesn't affect her willingness to help him, when needed.

Like now. Because the Blackmarsh is so dim, and the light given off by spells is so unpredictable, I can't tell for sure, but it sure looks like he's bleeding pretty badly, despite the healing spell Velanna summons.

But I have other things to worry about right now, so Anders will just have to wait. I dodge another sweep of the demon's hand as it breaks free of Velanna's spell again. It comes close enough I can feel the breeze from the motion as I spin and attack again, trying to maneuver the demon to a position where I can both fight it and sneak glances at Anders.

"Commander!" Velanna yelps as the demon takes a swing at her. It makes sense that a demon would know the danger posed by mages. "Get it away from me!"

"I'm _trying_!" I grumble. "You keep Anders alive, I'll keep the demon off you!"

"Are you... bargaining?" she demands incredulously.

"Andraste's _eyes_, Velanna, _**no**_! It's called teamwork!" I holler. Behind me the demon bellows in pain as another arrow finds its mark and the spirit drives his sword through one of the demon's legs. It kicks out, sending the armor-clad spirit reeling backwards.

"Commander, watch out!" Nathaniel's warning comes a split-second too late, and even as I whirl around, the demon's hand closes around my chest and it yanks me off my feet.

_Oh, sod, this is__** not**__.__** good**_, I can't help but think as it lifts me up to eye level.

"Proud of yourself, _Warden_?" the demon gloats, its grip tightening. "You have changed _nothing_!"

Those few seconds it takes to boast before hurling me against something hard are my salvation, and I watch as two arrows bury themselves in its wrist, almost up to the fletching. The demon lets out a sound halfway between a growl and a yelp as it instinctively loosens its grip on me just enough for me to wriggle free.

Rather than dropping to the ground, however, I take advantage of my position and clamber up the demon's arm, fingers gripping the spines best I can, until I'm standing on its shoulders. It flails, grasping at me, trying to grab a leg, an arm, anything. Velanna distracts it by channeling a burst of flames that lick at the demon's legs and send it stumbling backwards.

I sway, almost fall, then regain my balance and drive both my swords into the back of the demon's neck.

It screeches in agony, clawing for me almost desperately now, but I just shove my swords in deeper and hang on with the stubborn determination that's brought me through a Blight, a civil war, and Maker only knows how much else. Even when the demon's hand finally latches on to my leg and it tries to pull me off, I refuse to let go.

_"You are, without doubt, the most damned stubborn woman I've ever met..._" Alistair's frustrated commentary from during the battle at Ostagar rings through my mind as I feel the demon's grip weaken. I grin and push the blades deeper still, fingers locked around the hilts.

Finally, with a little encouragement from Velanna in the form of another ice spell, the demon starts to wobble, staggering into the gates leading to the courtyard and tearing them off their hinges with a crash as it falls. The momentum launches me off its shoulders, and I tuck in my head as I roll across the courtyard. I scramble to my feet soon as I stop moving, but I'm so dizzy I nearly fall over again.

"Careful," Nathaniel admonishes, grabbing my arm to help me stay upright.

"Thanks," I mumble. "Where's Velanna?"

"Taking care of Anders."

I huff strands of hair out of my eyes and wheel around, the panic I'd tamped down so well earlier rising in my chest again. _Oh, damn, Anders..._ There's a brilliant flash of pale blue light as I skirt the demon's corpse, and by the time I make my way over to where Anders got thrown, he's moving at least.

He winces as he sits up, one hand swiping the hair from his ruined ponytail out of his face and the other pressed against his side. "Sweet Andraste... _**Ow**_."

I chuckle. "Well, I'm sure that sums it up nicely. What exactly hurts?"

"Mostly my head. And this." He pulls his hand away from his side. I can't help but wince when I see what he means by 'this'. He'd been covering the worst of it, and now that his hand's moved, I can see broken ribs under the broken skin and torn fabric of his robes. The wicked gash extends down to his hip _and_ meanders up onto his chest, almost to his collarbone.

_That does it... _I swear under my breath. "Velanna, see what you can do to heal that here, and then we're making tracks back to the Vigil."

She nods. "Of course, Commander. What about him?" She gestures toward the spirit in Kristoff's body.

"That's a very good question," I mutter. I catch his attention as he turns from the demon's corpse. "What are you going to do now?" I ask him.

He looks puzzled, concerned. "It seems I cannot return to the Fade. I am trapped here, in the body of this... Grey Warden? There are memories in this poor man's mind. They are... difficult to see, but... he was a Grey Warden? He was... slain by the darkspawn, this one called the First?"

"Darkspawn are what Grey Wardens fight," I explain.

He nods as if he understands better now. "And that was your pursuit when you were... tricked into the Fade? Yes, I understand now." He sighs. "It seems I am at a loss... I know nothing of this world, and have only a few memories of this Grey Warden to draw from. I do not wish to die. What shall I do, mortal?" he asks me, looking genuinely lost. "You seem to be a creature of good character, and you _are_ part of this world. Can you advise me?"

I bite my lip in thought, half listening to Anders and Velanna bickering as she heals him. "You could join me," I finally offer. "The body you're... inhabiting belonged to a Grey Warden."

"You mean, continue this mortal's mission? As a Grey Warden?" He pauses to think for a moment. "It was a darkspawn who murdered this mortal most ignobly, and the ones that commanded it yet live. To avenge his death... yes, that would be a purpose." He nods decisively. "Very well. I will join you, Grey Warden, if you will allow it."

"Sounds good," I grin. "So... should I call you Kristoff, then?"

He shakes his head. "That is not my name. I have no name, only a virtue to which I aspire. If I am to need a name, then use that. I am Justice. And for now I am pleased to travel at your side, Grey Warden."

"I hope that remains true." I know justice and mercy sometimes find themselves at odds, and with my penchant for showing mercy, I hope he doesn't start to find me too soft. _And Maker's breath, I hope he never finds out about Jowan... or Zev, for that matter._ "How's it coming, Velanna?"

"I've done just about all I can do, Commander," the elf admits, the dark shadows under her eyes reinforcing the truth of that statement. She's done what she can, which will be suffcient, even if she's less skilled at healing than Anders. I make a mental note to ask him to teach her some of the more powerful healing spells he knows when we get back to the Vigil as I peek at her work. The wicked laceration has mostly healed over, though the skin still looks tender, almost _raw_.

"Wrap some bandages around that for protection and let's get out of here."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Anders mutters, reaching for his pack to pull out bandages. He stubbornly refuses help, somehow managing to do a better job bandaging himself than I could ever dream of doing. "It comes with the runaway mage territory, Rahna," he teases when he sees me staring.

"You... ran away from your Circle?" Velanna raises an eyebrow at him.

"How d'you think I got _here_?" Anders asks. "But yes, several times. The templars always found me using my phylactery, though. Not that I minded being caught much. They always assigned the same templar to track me down. Or perhaps she asked..." He grins. "I hope it was the latter. Ah, those long trips back to the tower; I in mancles, she glaring silently... The air practically _sizzled_."

Velanna is staring at him in absolute disbelief. "You escaped your Circle, _**repeatedly**_, for a _woman_?"

Anders chuckles at her expression. "Well, not _for_ her," he concedes, "But she made getting caught more fun." He accepts the hand I offer to haul him to his feet. "That's-ow-me, always looking on the bright side."

_And able to joke around mere minutes after nearly getting killed, _I add to myself. "Where'd Nathaniel get to?" I mutter.

"Right here, Commander," he answers as he walks up behind me. "You forgot something."

"What?" I look at him questioningly.

He holds out my swords. "I think you may need these."

"Oh. Right." I take the swords from him. They're still covered in ichor, so I pull out a rag to clean them off. "Thanks. What else did you find?"

Nathaniel shrugs. "Not much, really. The only thing that looks like it may have some value is this."

I examine the length of bone he holds out. "Am I missing something? It's _bone_."

Nathaniel smiles and I'd swear he's biting back a chuckle. "It's _dragonbone_, Rahna. Its rarity makes it rather valuable."

"Oh. Well, we'll keep that, then," I mumble, taking the bone from him and stashing it in my pack. "C'mon, let's go. I've had enough of this place."

"Couldn't agree more," Anders mutters, stumbling when he tries to walk. "The sooner this marsh is behind us, the better."

"You gonna be okay?" I ask him, grabbing his arm to keep him on his feet. "Or d'you need help?"

He bites his lip, as if weighing his options, before almost sheepishly admitting, "The latter, I think. If you don't mind."

"'Course not," I chuckle, stepping closer to let him lean on me as we make our way out of the marsh.

**oOo**

The whole way out, and even after we've left the marsh behind, I'm fervently praying that nothing attacks us. With one mage injured, the other exhausted, and me occupied with helping Anders, I don't think the end result would be very pretty.

Fortunately, the Maker decides to take it easy on me just this once, and my fears of werewolves following us or something prove to be for nothing, we don't see another soul the rest of the day. By the time we stop to set up camp, I'm nearly as tired as Velanna and very, very glad tonight's Nathaniel's turn to cook. I'd burn dinner. Or mix up ingredients. Or something like that.

To try and keep myself awake, I trade my armor for a loose tunic and pants and set about cleaning ichor and blood off the leather as best I can. I still nod off against Anders' shoulder at _least_ once before the food's ready. I shake myself awake, stubbornly ignoring the persistant tug of exhaustion. _Lemme eat first... Nathaniel's the only good cook out of all of us. I really want a meal that isn't charred or undercooked or something._

"Thanks." I set aside my passably clean armor and take the bowl of stew Nathaniel hands me.

"Ow," I hear Anders mutter under his breath as he shifts position on the log we're sharing.

"You alright?" I ask, looking over at him.

Despite his wince, he nods. "Mm-hm. It's just... tender. _Really_ tender."

"Well, Velanna's not quite as good as you at healing, remember," I point out around a yawn. "It's probably not _completely_ healed."

"True." Anders gives me a bemused smile. "You going to stay awake long enough to eat that?"

"You kidding?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. "Nathaniel cooked it, and I haven't had a decent meal in longer than I care to remember." Despite my assertation, I keep nodding off, and a couple times I nearly drop the bowl before jolting awake.

"Maybe you _should_ go to bed, Commander," Nathaniel suggests, a quiet chuckle underscoring his words.

"No, I can stay awake," I insist, blinking owlishly. Still, I've barely managed to eat half of my dinner before I feel myself drifting off again, and can't get myself to wake up this time. _No, I'm not finished..._

I hear the crunch and rustle of grass and dead leaves under someone's boots, before a calloused hand closes over mine and gently works the bowl and spoon out of my grasp. I _want_ to protest, I _want_ to tell Nathaniel I can finish eating at least, but all that comes out is a slurred and sleepy, "No, Nate..."

"Come on, Rahna." He lightly tugs on my arm, pulling me forward so he can pick me up piggy-back. I'm just barely awake enough to wrap one arm around his neck so I don't fall off. My other hand comes to rest on his shoulder, my fingers half-heartedly digging into the soft black fabric of his tunic as he straightens.

I try to stay awake-_ish_, at least, but he's _warm_ and I'm _tired_, so I'm all but asleep by the time Nathaniel reaches my tent, my head lolling against the back of his neck. He ducks through the flaps of the tent and crouches to let me slide off onto my bedroll. I grope sleepily for my blankets, and hear Nathaniel chuckle softly as he pulls them up for me.

"Thanks, N'thaniel," I somehow manage to mumble before succumbing to the incessant pull of sleep. If he says anything in reply, I'm already too far gone to hear it.

_A/N: I have been waiting literally a year to write that last scene. Almost to the day. I'm not kidding. Over on deviantART, I had an art trade with a friend of mine and I asked for some cute friendship-type picture with Rahna and Nathaniel. She gave me this uber-adorable picture of Nathaniel carrying a fast asleep Rahna piggyback, and I've been dying to work a scene like that into Rahna's story ever since then(last November I was like half to two thirds of the way through Aftermath, IIRC). So, FINALLY. If ffnet would let me link to off-site, I would, so you can see._

_ And the banter between Anders and Velanna while she was healing him I wasn't originally intending to include. But then Anders said something that was the perfect set up and I felt it was too good a chance to pass up. :) I'm also very sorry for hurting Anders, but I figure it's his turn. xD Oh, and yes, the dragonbone Nathaniel found is the stuff you need for Vigilance. I'm playing around with canon because I don't want to write the Queen of the Blackmarsh fight. Lazy author is lazy. =P_


	44. Sweet and Terrible Ache

44. Sweet and Terrible Ache

_"I'm proud of you, you know that, love?"_

_ "You say it often enough, I may start believing you." I grin at Alistair impishly. "What is it this time?"_

_ "The Landsmeet. Some of the things Loghain said, especially about the elves... well, I'm just proud of you for not erupting on the spot, I guess."_

_ "I think you're just relieved I let Anora keep the throne," I tease, snuggling close._

_ He chuckles, rubbing my arm absently with one hand. "There is that, too, I suppose."_

_ "One of the more selfish decisions I've made," I admit. "I didn't like the idea of you being stuck here while I'm still going all over the Maker's creation for the Wardens."_

_ "Aw, come on, Rahna," Alistair baits. "You know that saying about absence making the heart grow fonder don't you?"_

_ "Yes, but I don't see how I could be any fonder of you than I already am," I retort with a smirk, rolling over to rest my chin on his chest._

_ "Either way, it's not like I wanted it to begin with," he points out, playing with my hair. "So thanks for that."_

_ "You're very welcome. How's about you show me how much you appreciate that particular choice of mine?" I murmur suggestively, tracing my fingers along the edge of his muscles._

_ I hear his breath catch before he rolls over, pinning me to the bed, and leans down to whisper in my ear, "Your desire is my command."_

_ I kiss him. "Prove it."_

_ And he does. Oh, how he does._

**oOo**

For the first time in a long time, I don't wake from the memory in-or at least near-tears. It births an ache in my heart, sure, but it's sweeter, less painful. That night is one of my best memories, from just before we headed to Redcliffe. Before my world started unraveling, before I had to make choices and balance lives against beliefs beyond anything I'd done before. I yawn and stretch, letting the memory fade as I turn my attention to the present. My tunic's wrinkled and my pigtails are smashed into matching hopeless messes, and I do my best to make myself more presentable before emerging from my tent. As I push open the tent flaps, I notice that someone semi-neatly piled my armor just inside the tent. I smile to myself as I brush loose wisps of hair out of my eyes and step out.

It's still sort of early, so I'm mildly surprised that both Justice and Nathaniel are up, and say so. "Justice, weren't you the first watch last night?"

He nods. "I was. I do not, however, require sleep as a mortal would."

"Oh." That makes sense, now that I think about it. He didn't eat anything last night, either. "I'll keep that in mind." I bite my lip in mental debate for a second before sitting next to Nathaniel. "Hey, um, Nate?"

He looks up from sharpening his dagger, still scraping the blade in a practiced motion against the well-used whetstone. "Yes?"

"Thanks. For... y'know... last night." I rub the back of my neck. "Did... did I snore?"

"No louder than Anders," he assures me with a wry smile.

I laugh. "Oh, good. I'd been worried about that. I tend to be louder the more tired I am, and considering you had to carry me to bed, it was a concern."

"As long as you keep that mage around, I don't think you need to worry," Nathaniel mutters, eyes back on the dagger as it nearly slips. "I used to do that for Delilah," he says after nearly a minute of comfortable silence.

"Carry her to bed?" I clarify, shifting position on the sodding bumpy log.

He nods. "Adria used to read to her and Thomas every night, and more often than not, Delilah would fall asleep. I ended up carrying her to her room a lot."

"Have you two always been close?" I've been wondering about that since Delilah managed in one conversation what I hadn't been able to do in several. The fact that they're siblings aside, the way Nathaniel believed her without much protest makes me think they were close even before he left.

Another nod. "She was the only one who bothered to write when I was in the Free Marches."

_I wish I could say I'm surprised..._ I manage to hold my tongue this time. "'M sorry." _Living conditions in an alienage may not be all that great, but at least my entire family was close, and my father loved me and was proud of me..._

"There's no need for you to apologize, Rahna. It's hardly your fault," he reminds me as he sheaths the dagger and puts away the whetstone.

"I know, but still..." I sigh. "doesn't seem right."

"It's the past now, Commander." He sighs, the sound entirely too weary for this early in the day. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather it stay there."

"Can't blame you," I mutter. "I should probably wake the others up so we get back sooner rather than later."

"I'll help."

Both Velanna and Anders are easy to wake up, especially compared to Jowan, and before too long, we're on our way back, me still helping Anders. _Maker, please, no surprises when we get back. I have too much to do as it is..._

**oOo**

"Kristoff! Oh, thank the Maker!" The blonde woman waiting in the courtyard of the Vigil is all the proof I need the Maker either didn't hear me, or felt like saying 'no', with the fervent greeting she has for Justice.

"I fear you are mistaken, mortal," he replies, looking taken aback.

She frowns in confusion, stepping close enough I wonder how she can't tell he's a bloody walking corpse. "Kristoff, why are you...what has happened?"

I slip out from under Anders' arm to speak to her. "You were Kristoff's wife?"

"I _am_ his wife!" she retorts fiercely, eyes blazing.

Justice shakes his head, looking pained. "Your husband is gone, and I inhabit his body now. His death will be avenged, I assure you," he promises.

"Avenged?" she shrieks. "You've desecrated his body, how dare you!"

"It was not intentional." Justice protests, gesturing for her to calm down. "There was-"

"Get away from me!" she hollers, backing away with fear and anger mingling in her eyes before she turns and runs from the Vigil.

Justice watches her go and turns to me. "This body has memories of this woman," he says softly. "Aura is her name. I did not know that she would come."

"I didn't know about her either, Justice," I assure the distressed spirit.

"I must rectify this, somehow," he replies earnestly. "Intentionally or not, I have done this woman a great disservice."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Where would we even look for her?"

He rubs his forehead. "My memories suggest her home is in Amaranthine. It will prey on me if we do not seek her out. There must be something that can be done to assuage her pain. Something!"

"I'll see what I can do," I promise. _And this way Sigrun can maybe look for Mischa again, too._

Justice nods in thanks. "The darkspawn call our attention, but should we get the chance to seek her out, I would be grateful."

"Of course..." I'm distracted from really replying by the crowd of people thronging around the gate of the keep. None of them look terribly happy. "Oh, Maker, what now?" I groan, as I notice Varel and Garevel both trying to calm the people down and head for them.

Garevel catches sight of me first. "Thank the Maker you've arrived, Commander! Things are getting out of hand!"

One of the men in the crowd-looks like a leader to me-calls out, "Our children need food! Open the granaries and bloody _feed _your people!"

"I fear this must be the work of the conspiracy against you and the Wardens," Varel says, gesturing at the disorganized mob. "If the common folk just rose up on their own, I'll eat my boot. Maybe you can say a few words? Calm them down?"

"Varel, you don't coddle a revolt, you put it down!" Garevel protests angrily. "Just give me the order."

"I..." I don't want to kill civilians. I don't. It goes against everything in me to kill these people. "Let me talk to them first."

The de facto leader of the mob frowns as I step toward them. "We will not be-"

An older woman standing nearby cuts him off. "Let the Commander speak!"

"We will take care of you," I promise, "But it will take time-"

The man shakes his head. "My son is starving, and I'm not leavin' with only the promise of a knife-eared bitch, commander or no," he snarls. I barely blink at the put-down; I've heard it too many times by now, but I feel Anders and Nathaniel both bristle behind me. "If you won't open the granaries, for us, we'll do it ourselves!"

I feel like I'm watching a nightmare unfold as the mob attacks. A part of me dies as I mechanically draw my swords and duck under the blow aimed at me by one of the men. I can't help but notice both Nathaniel and Anders aim first for the man who insulted me, the stonefist and arrow hitting him at the same moment.

"Commander, we need your help!" Velanna hollers, and I realize I'm not doing anything but dodging attacks aimed at me.

I can't help it. It goes against everything in me to attack civilians. I'm supposed to be protecting them, not killing them. But-as the sick feeling in my gut reminds me-I have no choice right now. Even with Varel and Garevel's help, there are a lot of them. So, feeling like I've sold a piece of my soul to the bloody Void, I move forward, spinning in an attack that leaves two of the men and one woman bleeding on the ground, dead or dying. I don't stop to see which, fighting back tears and rage and horror. _Why, why, why you stupid, stupid __**idiots**__? I've fought a bloody archdemon, a conspiracy, and countless groups of bandits, abominations, and werewolves. What in __**Andraste's**__ name makes you think you stand a chance?_

By the time we win-if you can even consider this a 'win'-almost all of the rioters are dead. A few surrendered, and I leave them for Garevel to deal with as I tell Varel I need a minute and dash around the corner. I barely make it out of sight before dropping to my knees and retching up everything in my stomach, shaking arms wrapped around my middle. _Maker, why?_ I swallow the sobs. Varel said Bann Esmerelle wanted to talk to me about something urgent, and it wouldn't do to meet with her anything less than composed. So I drag in a couple ragged breaths, pray I can hold it together just a little longer before falling apart, and wonder where Fade got to as I rejoin the others.

"Are you alright?" Velanna asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

I nod. "Let's just see what Bann Esmerelle wants..."

They're all nice enough to pretend they believe my lie and follow me into the keep.

**oOo**

Esmerelle is waiting in the throne room when we arrive, wearing armor instead of silk like last time. I feel my stomach tighten. _That's odd..._

Varel greets her. "Bann Esmerelle, the commander. What was this urgent matter?"

"I'm here about the good arl. The good arl _you_ killed," she hisses venomously, glaring at me.

_The good arl? __**Good**__?_ I bite back my incredulous reply as I see Nathaniel flinch out of the corner of my eye. _Even the man's own children don't believe that._

"You're still loyal to Arl Howe?" Varel sounds like he's trying to process the absolute absurdity of that.

"Rendon was good to us," the bann retorts, eyes blazing. "Good to _me_. And now his death will finally be avenged."

The tight feeling intensifies. _Something's not right here..._ Varel must share my sixth sense, because he stiffens, whirling toward one of the rows of columns lining the throne room and throwing out his arm in the space of a breath.

The arrow meant for my head slams into his wrist instead, piercing armor, flesh and bone.

Unlike the rioters, I have no qualms whatsoever about killing heavily armored, traitorous nobles and hired assassins. I snarl in rage as I throw myself at Esmerelle, trusting the others to watch my back, though I do have to admit to being a little worried about Anders. His side still isn't completely healed, and I don't know if casting spells when injured is a bad thing. But we make do. Especially once the noise of the fight reach a point that Oghren and Sigrun come running and-even sans armor-throw themselves into the fray.

What surprises me the most, however, is that Hayden joins in, decapitating an assassin sneaking up on my bad side, before spinning to slam his shield into an armored noble's chest and knock the man back from Velanna. He appears to recognize Esmerelle, and looks just as pissed as I feel when both of us lunge forward with enough force our blades pierce her armor. I slit her throat with my free sword for good measure as the others handle the last few assassins. I yank my sword out of Esmerelle's chest with an emphatic tug, breathing hard as I look up at Hayden. "Thank you, ser Cousland."

He spits on her corpse before nodding. "You're welcome, Warden. You alright?"

"I'm fine- Oh, sod, Varel..." I spin on one heel, a delayed wave of worry flooding through me. Varel's sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his injured arm cradled close.

Garevel's already crouching next to the seneschal, muttering under his breath. "First the riot and now this. Blast it!" He examines the wound in Varel's arm and looks up at me. "He's been hit, but it looks glancing. He'll live."

I sigh in relief. "See that he does, he saved my life."

"I'll be fine, Commander," Varel assures me, wincing as the arrow brushes against the floor.

"I'll have the herbalist attend to him immediately," Garevel promises. "Since your mages look rather done in."

I glance at them over my shoulder and have to admit he's right. Velanna looks tired, and Anders looks about ready to collapse. This apparently answers my question about mages casting when injured. "You two go rest. Garevel, see about getting this cleaned up. Hayden... thanks again. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room."

**oOo**

Fade is curled up on the foot of my bed when I reach my room. He looks up and whines as I close the door and lean back against it. "Hey, boy..." I cross to the bed, curling up against the pillows. He crawls up the bed and licks my face. I ruffle his ears, full reality of the day's events finally sinking in. _I killed civilians. Maker, forgive me, I had no choice. I __**killed **__them. _In the privacy of my room, all of the careful restraint I force myself to maintain in front of other people melts away, and I bury my face in Fade's neck and cry.

_A/N: Methinks Rahna needs a hug. I don't get that stupid mob scene. My Aeducan, who only had a decent cunning score and maxed out persuade skill, talked them down no problem. But then Rahna, who had about double her cunning and also maxed out persuade could not keep those idiots from rioting. I tried like five times. So... I had to leave it in her canon. That was a hard part to write. And I firmly believe Nathaniel and Delilah must've been close growing up. It explains why they're the only two sane/normal people to come out of that family, and how 'easy' it is for Delilah to set him straight about Daddy dearest. It's also my bias speaking, but shhhh. ;)_


	45. Back to Business

45. Back to Business

I don't know how long I've been sitting alone with Fade when someone knocks softly on the door.

"Come in," I mumble scrubbing at my eyes, which I'm sure are the reddest they've been since Wynne told me about Alistair.

"Commander?" Sigrun opens the door just wide enough to slip into the room, closing it behind her. "Are... are you alright?" She shakes her head soon as she asks. "Sorry. Dumb question."

I give her a watery smile. "It's alright. What's up?"

"I was gonna give you report on what happened in the tunnels, but if you're not up to it..."

"No, actually, something to keep me from drowning in angst and self pity is probably a good thing," I assure her, scooting up to sit on the edge of my bed. Fade lets out a small whine and crawls after me until her can rest his head in my lap. "Did Oghren behave himself?"

She giggles, walking forward to lean against the foot of my bed. "Yep. Hayden made sure of that."

"Wait, he went with you?" I demand incredulously.

"I tried to talk him out of it, Comannder, swear to the Ancestors, but when he saw us getting ready to go he asked what we were doin', and I just told him we were investigating some tunnels; Warden business, and he said he didn't care about darkspawn, ghouls, or other assorted nasties, he wanted to come. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was so determined-said he was bored doing nothing-I finally agreed. I figured if I kept sayin' no he'd just follow us anyway-noble types feel entitled to pull stunts like that. But anyway, getting back to the tunnels, there were darkspawn, and a pretty sodding powerful wraith-good thing two of us were dwarves-and then more darkspawn. Including an emissary and the biggest ogre I've seen in my life. Hayden and I took out the ogre while Oghren took out everything else. I went and got Voldrik so's he could close this dwarven barrier door we found. No more arkspawn from ther to worry about." She grins. "Hayden's damned near fearless in a fight, Commander. As in, he might make it as a Warden."

"Sigrun, I am not recruiting the soon-to-be Prince Consort," I mutter dryly, scratching Fade's ears. "Anora would probably have my head and banish the Wardens from Ferelden again. I like living. And being able to visit my family."

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind when on the look-out for recruits," she chuckles. "I"m just sayin' he was a good fighter."

"Considering he's about to marry the queen and be in command of her armies, I say that's a very, very good thing," I reply.

"True." She hesitates, biting her lip. I can almost see her battling her curiosity. "If... If you don't mind me asking, Commander, what happened outside? Anders and Velanna are both asleep and I can't find Nathaniel."

I sigh. "The conspiracy we just ended in the throne room stirred up the common folk to the point of rioting as a distraction. I couldn't talk them down." I feel a fresh wave of horror wash through me. "They attacked us, Sigrun. I... We had to _kill them_."

"Oh... 'M sorry, Commander," Sigrun mumbles. "Sorry I asked, and sorry they were so stupid."

I have to chuckle at that. "Not your fault, Sig. And now that I've had a good cry about it, we can get back to business. I believe I promised you a trip to Amaranthine to look for Mischa?"

"You don't have to do that for me, Commander," she protests.

"Yes, I do, and it's not just for you. Justice wants to look for Kristoff's wife, and she lives in Amaranthine. And Nathaniel wants to visit Delilah again."

"Just Delilah?" Sigrun asked, grinning.

I burst out laughing. "I asked him the same thing."

She circles around the foot of my bed to sit next to me. "And? What'd he say?"

"He didn't even realize Vi was sweet on him," I tell her, fighting a giggle.

She snorts in disbelief. "Why are men so oblivious?"

"Dunno. But remember, he kinda _does_ have a better excuse than most," I remind her.

"Okay, okay, I'll give you that," she concedes. "But still..."

"Don't give him too hard a time about it, Sig," I warn. "I already did."

"Noted, Commander." Fade chooses this moment to finally give into temptation and all but crawls across my lap to give Sigrun an enthusiastic face-wash. "Fade! Down boy!"

"Aw, come on, he likes you," I tease as I try-unsuccessfully-to pull him off.

"So does Honey," Sigrun retorts, laughing, "But she doesn't try to lick off my sodding tattoos."

"He does have too much energy," I admit. "C'mon, boy, you wanna go outside?"

Fade barks happily and all but _vaults_ off the bed.

"I think that's a yes, Commander," Sigrun giggles.

"Agreed." I push up the sleeves of my shirt and head for the courtyard.

**oOo**

"Oh, _sod it all_!" I hear Oghren growl as Fade and I cross the throne room.

I pull up short. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'. Stubbed my toe is all," he grumbles. "It's jus' one of those days." He lets out a heavy sigh. "Actually, it's been one of those _weeks_."

I can't help but note that his 'one of those weeks' started roughly around the time Felsi visited. "You wanna talk?" I hear Fade whine softly as I lean against one of the columns, but I rest my hand on his head and he sits next to me with a disgruntled snort.

"This isn't gonna make you think less of me, is it?" Oghren asks, but shakes his head almost as soon as the words pass his lips. "Ah, who cares. I've just been thinkin' about Felsi and.. and the nugget. I didn't do right by them, did I?"

"Nope. Not one bit." I've learned the hard way that in matters of the heart, blunt is better.

Oghren chuckles. "That's what I like about you, boss. You're honest. Like a sock to the gut." He sobers. "I think Fels knew, even if she never admitted it to herself. She knew I could never settle down again. I did once... and well, you know how that ended."

"Felsi seems a lot different from Branka, though," I point out.

"True," he admits. "But what's done is done, right? And Felsi'll get by, if I know her. But Zara..." He sighs, and the closest thing I've ever seen to _tenderness_ flashes across his face for a ghost of a second. "That's got me all torn up inside, Commander. The little one won't understand."

"Y'know, there's no reason you can't still be part of her life," I point out. "Even if you can't always be there."

He nods slowly. "Aye. Maybe I could... visit, every once in a while. Write some letters. That's the least I can do... as a father. And hey," he chuckles. "Maybe Zar'll grow up thinkin' Daddy's a great hero or somethin'."

"That's the spirit," I laugh. "I'll even vouch for ya."

"Oh, you." He waves me off. "Get goin', before I get all misty eyed."

"As you wish, ser dwarf," I tease with a mock bow, giving Fade a light nudge toward the door. That's all it takes for the mabari to dash off, excitement back in full force.

**oOo**

Fade is beyond happy to be outside, and shows his gratitude by planting his paws on my shoulders and vigorously licking my face. "Alright, alright, down boy!" I giggle, struggling to keep my balance. A full grown, excited mabari is more than capable of knocking over an elf, should the desire strike him. "I'm happy you're happy, but take it easy!"

"He missed you while you were gone, Commander," Varel comments, walking up just as Fade knocks me over.

"Oof. Fade!" I shake my hand and scramble back to my feet. "Shouldn't you be resting or something, seneschal?"

He waves off my concern with his good hand. "I'll be fine. It's just a scratch."

I eye his heavily bandaged arm. "_That_ counts as a scratch?"

Varel chuckles. "I've had worse. Being seneschal can be more dangerous than people realize."

"I imagine so. Especially under a man like Rendon Howe." Fade nudges my hand, pressing a slobber-laden stick against it until I give in and throw the bloody thing. He runs after it with a happy bark.

He nods. "The arl and I... didn't see eye to eye on most matters."

"And he didn't just kill you?" I ask incredulously. _Maker forgive me, I know he was Nathaniel's father, but that man was a vicious, soulless bastard._ "That seems to happen a lot to people who disagree with him."

Varel gives a wry smile. "Aye, Commander. I suppose I was lucky to just be demoted. I did what I could to counter the arl's more... unseemly actions, even so."

I quirk an eyebrow in confusion. "But... you're seneschal _now_, so what happened?"

He shrugs. "When the Warden assumed command of the Vigil, someone must have told them what I'd done, and they reinstated me."

"Ah. Good." He's exactly the kind of man I want as seneschal; loyal, concientious, and brave. The man took a crowbow bolt for me, which I happen to know from experience hurts more than a regular arrow. "Varel?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Thank you, for that." I nod toward his arm.

"It's nothing," he demurs. "It was an honor. And, honestly, I'm flattered by the attention, but even the herbalist admits it looks worse than it is."

"Still, no more diving in front of arrows," I tell him. "That's an order."

"With respect, I don't know if I can obey that, Commander. We can't have the Commander of the Grey dying without naming a successor, ser."

"You have me there," I admit with a laugh. "Should the need ever arise, Nathaniel or Sigrun. Either one." I look across the courtyard as Fade comes galloping back, one end of his slobbery stick clenched firmly between his teeth. The other end is being held with equal determination by Honey. Halfway back to us, Fade trips over his feet, sending both dogs tumbling ears over tail in a jumbled mess of fur and legs. I wince, but neither seems phased. In fact, no sooner have they regained their feet than Honey lets out a playful bark and tackles Fade, landing firmly on top of him-until he squirms free. They two of them roll around, gentle-for mabari, anyway-bites at throats and ears underscored by carefree yips and growls.

"I think you'll have your hands full with these two for a while," Varel chuckles.

I look over at him and laugh. "Is this your tactful way of telling me you need to go, seneschal?"

He shrugs. "Lots of order to bark for you, Commander."

"Then I won't keep you. Seneschal." I offer him a formal half-bow, which he matches before heading back to the keep. I watch him go for a minute, glad I have someone like him to leave in charge while I go gallivanting around the arling. "Alright, you two," I mutter, turning back to the dogs just as Fade lets out a half-hearted growl and pins Honey to th ground. She struggles for a second before going limp and whimpering to let him know he wins. "You have way too much energy, you know that?" Honey scrambles to her feet and both look at me expectantly. "We should've taken you with us to the Blackmarsh."

Fade barks his agreement, and Honey wags her tail.

"You wanna come along when we go to Amaranthine?"

Both of them tackle me and treat me to a double face bath.

"If it's okay with Nathaniel," I clarify, which earns a plaintive whine from Honey. "Oh, cheer up, sweetie, I'm sure it will be." I wrap my fingers around Fade's collar and pull myself to my feet. "Let's go find Nathaniel, hmm?"

**oOo**

He's not hard to find, considering I have Honey with me. As soon as she sees I'm on my feet and ready to follow, she tears off with a happy bark, straight toward the archery range.

_**That**__ doesn't surprise me at all_. I know practice is how you stay good at something, but he spends an awful lot of time out here. I can't help but wonder if it's at all weird for him to be back here as a Warden-this _is_ where he grew up, after all. Part of me is convinced that's why he spends as little time _inside_ as possible. I smile to myself as I lean against the fence to watch him, the two mabari dropping in a heap next to me. If Nathaniel notices he now has an audience, it doesn't distract him from making his shot.

"So is this what you do with what free time we get?" I ask as he reaches for another arrow.

He doesn't turn to look at me, but I see a slight smile tug at his lips. "It is. Did you have a better use in mind, Commander?"

"Nah. Hard to argue with 'practice makes perfect'." I watch the arrow zip toward the target, raising an eyebrow when it hits just inside the bullseye. "That seems a bit off for yo-"

I shut my mouth as the next arrow slams into dead center, so close behind the other one it catches me off guard. Nathaniel chuckles. "Is that more what you were expecting?"

"Yeeeah... Maker, you're good, Nate."

"Thank you." He sets his bow aside and turns to face me. "Now, I assume you didn't just come over here to watch me practice, Rahna. Did you need something?"

I laugh. "You know me too well. Consider this a ten to twenty minute warning about leaving for Amaranathine. I need to round up Sigrun and Justice, and check on Velanna and Anders, but then we'll be off." I lean far enough over the fence to give his rolled-up sleeve a playful tug. "Think you can manage to be ready by then?"

"Of course, Commander," he replies, giving me the same smile Soris used to when I was being too... well, _me_, leaving me with the distinct impression our friendship's hit the point of being almost _sibling_ in nature.

_Wonderful_, I smirk to myself as Fade lets out an impatient bark. "Oh, yeah, and I was thinking we probably should bring the dogs. They've been stuck here a while now, and that's not really good for mabari."

"As you wish." Nathaniel nods as he retrieves his bow and ducks through the fence, lightly brushing his fingers against Honey's head to get her to follow. Fade gives a protesting bark, which Honey answers with an encouraging one, and he darts after them. I chuckle at the two of them as I trail behind them all the way back to the keep.

**oOo**

"Anders?" I rap my knuckles against his door, feeling incredibly guilty for waking him up. But I want to talk to at least one of the mages before we leave, and I couldn't get Velanna awake for love or money. There's no answer, so I sigh and try again, louder this time, which earns me a sleepily mumbled 'Jus' a minute...' followed by the rustle of sheets and the sound of footsteps.

"Yeah, Rahna?" Anders leans against the doorframe and runs one hand through his hair, shoving the tangled blond mess out of his face. He still looks utterly _exhausted_; from the bloody huge dark circles under his eyes to the slump still dragging at his shoulders. At least his wound from the Baroness looks more healed, though the pale brown scar still cuts a meandering line across his chest and down his side, ending just above the waist of the loose pants riding low on his hips.

_That's probably __**why**__ he looks so damned tired, Rahna_, I reminde myself. "I, um, wanted to talk to you before we leave for Amaranthine. I have something to ask you and something to give you. First, this is for you." I hold up the medium sized book, hand-written pages only slightly dog-earred. "You don't have to read it until you feel like it, but I do think you should at some point."

"Alright. Jus' leave it on the desk, I guess," he mutters through a yawn, leaning back for a second to let me do so. "An' what didja wanna ask me?"

"Just... once you're both awake-and I mean really awake- d'you think you could teach Velanna some of the more powerful healing spells you know? Just so we don't end up in another mess like the Blackmarsh."

"Sure. If she'll let me," he mumbles. "Can I go back to bed now?"

I laugh. "Go. Get some sleep. And I'll make sure no one wakes you up before you're ready."

" 'preciate it," he yawns before closing the door. I've hardly taken two steps down the hall before I hear him tumble back into bed. The snoring starts a few seconds later. _Nathaniel was right_, I smirk, fighting a giggle as I tiptoe away.

_A/N: Ay-yah... So I had this all typed up and ready to go by Saturday afternoon, felt pretty good about it(Sorry; shirtless Anders fangirl moment-I regret noting xD), and then pulled it up to check it on Sunday morning-and discovered it was GONE. The document saved under the 'Absence45' title, but the whole text, five days' worth of free time, was completely GONE. So, I panicked, tried opening my flashdrive on other computers, panicked some more when that didn't work, headdesk-ed a couple times, and then retyped the darn thing. It's *almost* word-for-word with the first version, but there's a few things that changed. Oh, well. Hopefully they're better than originally. _

_And yes, Varel love. I really, really like his character, espcially after reading his wiki page. The dude is awesome. So you get some Varel-love, because I think he deserves it. =D And some Nathaniel love, because I have a reputation to uphold, here. And some mabari love because I've been neglecting those two and they're too adorable and fun. xD_


	46. Lucky Break

46. Lucky Break

"How soon could you be ready to go?"

Gabriel frowned in confusion. "What?"

Gerard sighed, running one hand through his hair as he repeated himself. "How soon can you be ready to leave?"

Gabriel leaned forward, bracing his hands against the commander's desk as he answered. "That would depend on how far I'll be going, if I'm the only one who would be eating the food I bring, things like that. But I thought you needed me here to train new recruits, no? Why would I need to leave?"  
"Because of this infernal thing." Gerard brandished the letter Kiv had brought before throwing it down on his desk. "Apparently the First Warden has heard reports that the darkspawn presence is stronger than we thought in some areas. So he wants to reinforce certain garrisons, particularly in the Free Marches."

Gabriel swallowed hard to force down the hope rising in his chest._ Not until I'm more sure_... "Yes, ser? "

"So you, Kiv and that other Warden, Stroud, are to go to the Marches and see where you're needed. And if you think them ready, your new recruits as well."

"Syn is definitely ready. She has more military and leadership experience than most of the new Wardens I've seen." Gabriel looked at Gerard. "You know the 'training' is more to determine skill level and adaptation to the effects of the Joining than anything else, yes?"

"Of course, of course." Gerard waved away the question. "And what of Aimon?"

"I think he's ready as well. Everyone reacts to the Joining in differing degrees, and from what I can tell, his nightmares are worse than most, in both intensity and frequency." Gabriel's brow wrinkled in concern. "My only real worry for them is the first encounter with darkspawn."

"Well, if Syn is a dwarf with military experience, I'd think it's safe to say she's fought them before," Gerard pointed out, half-sitting on the edge of his desk.

"Yes, I know. But it's different when you're a Warden." Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you can manage without them, I think it would be good for them to come as well."

Gerard chuckled. "Oh, I suppose we can make do. Now, go collect your men, ser Andras."

"Yes, ser." Gabriel waited until he was out in the hall to pinch himself-hard. "Ow! So I'm not dreaming. Oh, thank you, Maker," he muttered, grinning. "Now I just need to know where she's posted and get myself posted there as well."

A little, nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him of how strongly such relationships were discouraged among the Wardens. _I don't bloody care..._ Gabriel retorted stubbornly. _I miss Miri, and if I can find her, I want to see her._ The voice shut up, and he continued on his way to collect the others.

**oOo**

Luck was with him, and they hadn't scattered all over the vast fortress; Kiv and Syn both sat cross-legged on the latter's bed as she listened with rapt attention to the story the elf was telling-and leaned close enough it made Gabriel smirk. Stroud and Aimon were apparently from the same general area of Orlais and were trading stories over a game of Wicked Grace.

"Somebody looks like he got good news, aye?" Syn sing-songed as Gabriel approached.

He chuckled. "For me it is. Not sure if anyone will agree with me."

"Do tell," Kiv smirked.

"That letter you brought? We're being sent to the Free Marches; you, me, Stroud, and Aimon and Syn."

"Which way are we going?" Aimon asked, pushing back his chair enough to reach for a map.

Gabriel leaned forward, tracing his intended route as he elaborated. "We'll walk to Amaranthine and then take a boat across the channel to Kaiten. From there we can figure out who needs to go where."

"Wouldn't it be better to sail from either West Hill or Highever?" Kiv pointed out, climbing down from Syn's bed to join the discussion. "They're both closer."

"If I may?" Stroud asked, tugging the map closer. Gabriel nodded and the warrior explained. "The harbor at West Hill is more trecherous this time of year. This means more work for the crew, which translates to higher fares for the passengers, as well as elevated risk just getting out of the harbor. And Highever is still recovering from the loss of their teryn and a good portion of the town after Arl Howe's attack just before Ostagar."

"Still, you'd think for a coastal terynir the harbor would be pretty high priority for repairs, yah?" Syn pointed out. "And they've had a year and a half to rebuild."

"Yes, but leaving from Amaranthine means less time on a boat," Gabriel chuckled. "I don't do well on boats."

"Ah. I see." The dwarf chuckled.

"We should get ready to leave. I don't think it's horribly urgent, but we should get there as soon as possible, no?"

"Sounds good," Syn nodded. She, Aimon, and Stoud headed off to collect what they'd need.

"You want to find out where Miri is and get posted there yourself, don't you?" Kiv smirked.

"That would be nice, yes." Gabriel nodded.

"Well, good luck with that," Kiv muttered. "There's at least half a dozen Warden bases in the Free Marches, you know that, right?"

"I know." Gabriel crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Kiv answered, turning to collect his things. "Long as I can pack while you ask."

"Certainly. What's up with you and Syn?"

Kiv briefly twisted back around to shoot his friend a confused look. "What?"

"I couldn't help but noticed when I walked in that she looked rather... interested. Is the feeling mutual?"

The Rivaini elf nodded, shoving his dark curls out of his eyes as he finished packing. "It is. I do like her, quite a bit."

"When we get to the Free Marches, d'you want me see about getting the two of you posted in the same place?"

"That would be nice," Kiv admitted, grinning as he realized what Gabriel had just done. "Well done, ser."

"Thank you." Gabriel grinned in reply, offering a mock bow. "And I will do what I can to get you posted together. But I can't push too hard or people will get suspicious."

"Thanks for that. What about you and Miri?"

"I'll just keep praying I can find out where she is and finagle my way into being posted with her, no?" He smirked. "That plan's worked so far."

"May it keep working," Kiv chuckled.

"I hear you on that," Gabriel muttered wryly as he left the room to do his own packing.

**oOo**

They managed to leave just early enough to make decent progress before it got dark and they had to make camp. Conversation ebbed and flowed between various combination of the five of them, alternating with periods of silence that never lasted long. During one of the silences, Syn put on enough speed to catch up with Gabriel as he led the way.

"So tell me, boss," the dwarf teased, "Why're we really leaving from Amaranthine? There hasta be more to this than you not liking boats."

"Amaranthine is closer to Kaiten," Gabriel explained. "Which is sort of the hub of the Warden bases in the Free Marches. I figure they'll know there which bases need people the most." _And which one has a certain dark skinned mage that I miss horribly._

Syn just raised one eyebrow. "Gabriel, I grew up around politics," she pointed out. "I can tell when I'm not being given the whole story, yah? You have some other reason for wanting to leave from Amaranthine. You have a girlfriend there? Sister? Meetin' with a secret society?"

He outright laughed at that. "The girlfriend's in the Free Marches, I only have a brother and he's in Orlais, and the Wardens are close enough to a secret society in the public eye I don't think I'll be getting involved with any more."

"Then who is it?" Syn pressed.

Gabriel shrugged. "I have a couple friends stationed at Vigil's Keep I wanted to visit, if there was time. If there's not, I'll manage. But I haven't seen Keenan, who's my best friend, in _ages_, and Rahna it's been..." He paused to think, "Maker, at least two months. Probably longer."

"Ah, I see," she smirked. "So tell me about this girlfriend of yours. If ya don't mind," the dwarf amended hastily. "I know you're my superior and all, but I hafta admit I'm curious."

"It's alright," Gabriel chuckled, raking the hair out of his eyes. "Her name's Miri. She's an elf; Rivaini and even darker skinned than Kiv. I met her back at the start of Blight, when I stopped by the Circle tower to talk to the First Enchanter."

"She's a mage?" Syn raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. " Yes."

"I thought they weren't supposed to leave the Circle." She frowned. "I haven't been on the surface that long, and even I know how strict your Chantry can be."

Gabriel scoffed at that. "And the Fereldan Chantry is nothing compared to Orlais, no? But mages are allowed to leave if they get a pass and an escort... or are conscripted."

"You _conscripted_ her?" Syn's eyebrow shot back up. "Why?"

"She'd apparently helped a friend of hers break some pretty serious rules so he could leave the tower before he was made Tranquil. Turned out said friend was a blood mage, so the Knight-Commander was going to execute her. I figured bull-headed stubbornness and loyalty to her best friend even at the cost of her life were good traits for a Warden and recruited her." He shrugged. "The whole falling-in-love thing started during the course of the week it took us to reach Jader for her Joining." Gabriel grinned. "First kiss and all."

"Wow." Syn nodded. "I'm impressed."

"This post in the Free Marches was the first time we were sent to different places. I'm hoping to change that when we get there," Gabriel admitted.

"Best of luck with that," Syn chuckled.

"So... what about you?" Gabriel asked, glacing back over his shoulder at Kiv, who was deep in conversation with Aimon about something.

"What about me what?" Syn returned, huffing a loose wisp of hair out of her eyes.

"How'd you join and what's up with you and Kiv?"

"Seems I'm not the only curious one today," the dwarf muttered with a wry smile.

Gabriel shrugged. "I already told you about Miri, and if you really want, I'll tell you how I joined, too."

"Mm. Sounds fair, I guess," she shrugged. "I... I joined because I killed m' brother." She ignored the way Gabriel's eyebrows shot up at that and plunged ahead. "It was a politics thing, and I was manipulated into thinkin' it was self-defense-maybe it was; I don't even know anymore. But the Assembly didn't buy my defense because someone else had already bought _them_. I was stripped of any honor I had, erased from the Memories..." She sighed heavily. "And banished to the Deep Roads with only a sword, shield and the ragged prison clothes on my back to fight darkspawn until I died to make up for my 'crime'." She smirked. "I'm far more resilient than _some people_ thought me to be, however, and I managed to survive with scavenged weapons and armor for what I think worked out to six months before I ran into Anton. He was impressed that starvin' dwarven prin-warrior managed to survive as long as I did and offered me a place in the Wardens."

"And anything that got you out of there sounded good to you?" Gabriel hazarded. "Awful lucky break for you."

"Exactly." She chuckled. "There are still times I worry about fallin' up into the sky. Mostly on nights with no stars, when it looks like a bloody great void just waitin' t' swallow me whole." She was silent for a moment before asking, "Anton's at Vigil's Keep or whatever it's called, isn't he?"

"He should be. That's what Gerard told Rahna, at least," Gabriel replied. "If we have time for a visit, I'm sure you could see him." He smiled. "He'd probably enjoy that, and I suspect you would, too, no?"

Her smile widened. "Aye, that I would. And I b'lieve you also asked about me an' Kiv?"

"If you don't mind, _mon ami_."

"Not at all." The dwarf shifted the greatsword strapped to her back to a more comfortable position before she explained. "Right now it's just... attraction, I guess, yeah? I like him, I think he likes me-"

"He does," Gabriel interrupted.

"And you know this how, exactly?" Syn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We've been friends long enough I think I can tell when he likes someone, Syn. You were saying?"

"That's all there really is right now," she shrugged. "I think, maybe, if we end up the same place, it could turn into more-he's definitely my type-but for now... I just don't know." She sighed and gave her ponytail a frustrated tug.

"I'll do what I can," Gabriel promised. "I know Stroud's been stationed near Kirkwall before, so he'll probably end up there if possible, but beyond that... well, pray the same base needs a dual-wielding rogue and a warrior with a greatsword," he chuckled.

"I'll do that," she grinned. "An' I'll even throw in a request that wherever your Miri is needs a warrior like you. I hafta warn ya though, the ancestors haven't answered most of m'requests the way I want these last couple years."

Gabriel laughed. "I much appreciate the attempt, all the same."

"Not a problem, boss. Now, about how you joined the Wardens...?"

He smiled and started off on the story Rahna had found so fascinating; telling about all of it.

Syn was impressed. "Seems we both caught lucky breaks with Wardens bein' in the right place at the right time, yeah?"

"That we did," Gabriel agreed, slowing to a stop as they reached a good spot to make camp.

"And if you weren't taken..." Syn chuckled, letting the sentence trail off as she unshouldered her pack. "Your Miri's a lucky lady."

Gabriel shrugged. "Thanks for the compliment, but I feel the luckier of the two of us." He smirked. "Which I know most men say."

"Only the ones worth having, salroka," Syn shot back, unstrapping her greatsword and leaning it against a nearby tree to help Aimon and Kiv pitch the tents.

_Well, I'm hardly going to argue with __**that**_, Gabriel chuckled to himself as he turned to help Stroud with clearing a firepit.

_A/N: As you all probably figured out by now; yes, Syn is an Aeducan. I know it might be a bit of a stretch, her being recruited like she says(and I also know I'm using a disproportionate number of fem!Wardens), but she's a very crafty and resilient gal and I wanted to use her. And I figure there's been enough expeditions that lose men in the Deep Roads she could scrounge up enough food/armor/weapons to get by for six months. Maybe. She's the reason Gabriel got the whole chapter, too. I was originally gonna split it between him and Jowan and Miri, but when I hit three and a half pages and he and Syn showed no sign of shutting up, I gave that up. Jowan and Miri will probably need a whole chapter anyway. ;)_


	47. Happy to Help

47. Happy to Help

This trip to Amaranthine is more or less uneventful. The only thing I would consider worthy of note is when we run into a small caravan from Denerim not long after leaving the Vigil.

_These must be the merchants Mistress Woolsey mentioned requesting._ I can't help but wonder what's taken them so long-before I remember the Pilgrim's Path has only been safe to travel for a week or two now. And this only thanks to Velanna joining the Wardens. I smirk to myself; the irony not escaping me.

"Good to see you again, Warden," the man driving the lead cart calls as they approach.

I do a double-take. "Harren? What're you doing here?"

"We're... relocating-temporarily, of course-while Denerim is rebuilt," he explains. "Queen Anora heard the Wardens needed an armorer and we needed another location to do business, and so volunteered us. Not that we mind much, of course."

"Which has nothing to do with the money we're being paid, I'm sure," Wade pipes up.

"Shh," Harren hisses, waving him off.

I chuckle. That explains why Harren doesn't seem to mind running into me after all but throwing me out of their shop due to the dragonbone plate armor. "Good to see you again, Master Wade. The dragonbone armor served its purpose well." _Until it got chewed up by another dragon and I forgot to get it repaired..._

Wade treats me to a broad smile under his mustache. "Of _course_, I remember you, Commander! I hope you'll bring me exciting things to craft here, yes? Relieve the monotony of slaving away making common arms and armor?"

He sounds so hopeful I nod. "I might have a project or two for you when I get back from the city."

"Excellent! Then I shall await your return with bated breath, Commander."

Harren groans and I hear Sigrun giggle behind me as I grin. "See you then."

"Looking forward to it, Commander," Harren mutters, sounding anything but sincere. I bite back a laugh as they continue toward the Vigil and we head for the city.

"Friends of yours?" Sigrun asks, her giggle still evident in her voice.

"Technically... no. Wade's the best armorer I've ever seen, with both plate and leather, and he's made armor for me in the past. I'm probably his favorite customer and Harren's least favorite," I explain with a wry smile. "Because when Wade gets something like dragon scales to work with, it usually takes him much longer to craft the armor. Which means they lose business-and therefore money-which pisses Harren off somethin' awful. He kicked me out after I brought Wade dragon scales during the Blight."

"You killed a dragon?" Her eyes go wide.

"Uh-huh. And I've actually_ fought _three of 'em."

"Wow."

"Most people don't see even one dragon their entire lives," Nathaniel comments. "They've all but been reduced to legends now."

"Eavesdropping?" I tease.

He shrugs, smile tugging at his lips. "You do it all the time."

I laugh. "You have me there."

"You'll have to tell us about killing all these dragons someday, Commander," Sigrun begs.

"Well, I was only responsible for the the killing blow on one of them," I confess. "Alistair killed the other two. And one of those was the archdemon, so does it still count?"

"Yes," Sigrun and Nathaniel both answer. "I'd say it counts double," the dwarf mutters. "And I still wanna hear about them."

"Noted, Sig," I laugh. "Maybe when we get back to the Vigil, 'cause you know Anders is gonna want to hear, too."

"True," she concedes. "I'll just force myself to be patient the whole time we're in the city."

"Speaking of which, do you know where we could find Mischa?" I ask.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Commander," she shrugs. "Maybe the tavern?"

"We can start there, at least. Even if we don't see her, someone may know where she is," Nathaniel points out.

"Very true." I turn to Justice. "Do you know where exactly in the city Aura lives?"

He shakes his head. "I am afraid not, Commander. The best I can tell from Kristoff's memories, she is in the city, but I know not where we might find her living."

"Okay, then..." I sigh. "Can you tell anything else about her from the memories; like places she might go, people she may visit?"

"I get the sense that she is extremely devout," Justice replies. "Perhaps we might check in the... Chantry, is it called?"

I nod. "Yes, that's what it's called, and yes, we can look for her there. It's actually right near the tavern, so it's not even out of our way."

"Good. I would be most grateful, Warden." He offers a small smile of gratitude.

"Happy to help," I reply, meaning it. So far helping this group of Wardens has been easier than my companions during the Blight. Alright, so it's not as if they could top fighting a dragon or a bard master anyway, but still, I appreciate how much easier it's been.

**oOo**

We stop by Delilah's first, but she's not home.

"We can check again later," I promise Nathaniel. "But I guess you're stuck with us for now."

He shrugs. "You say that as if it's a bad thing, Commander."

I roll my eyes at his mildly teasing undertone. "Come on, let's go." We don't have to decide until we reach the chantry and the tavern which is getting checked first, but we should at least get moving in the right direction. Before we head up the steps, however, I stop to assure Mervis that the Pilgrim's Path is clear and it's safe for him to resume his caravans. He thanks me profusely and pulls out a small pouch of gold coins. "Keep it," I insist, holding up a hand to forestall him. "Use it to help the families of the men who were killed."

I can still hear him mumbling to himself about how generous I am as we continue on our way.

"That was nice of you," Sigrun comments.

I shrug. "We have plenty of money. I took a lot of side jobs during the Blight, and I hoard coin like you wouldn't believe. This is what happens when you grow up in an alienage."

"Or Dust Town," she adds.

I nod. "Or Dust Town."

As we reach the top, Sigrun comments to Justice, "Y'know, sometimes you twitch uncontrollably."

He looks down at her. "Beg pardon?"

"I've been watchin' you, and sometimes you just... twitch," she elaborates.

"Do I? It must be an interaction between me and Kristoff's decaying body," he muses.

"It's like you're dancing," Sigrun informs him almost gleefully. "Oooh, we should set you to music!"

I can't help but chuckle at the mental image _that_ conjures, hiding my grin behind one hand.

Justice clears his throat before replying, "Has it occurred to you that I may be... self-concious about this twitching?"

Her eyes widen. "Oh, sorry. Are you?"

Justice lets a long second or two tick by before answering. "No."

"Alright, then," Sigrun shrugs cheerfully. "Oh, by the way, here's your dagger back."

He blinks at her. "Did I drop this?"

She shakes her head, grinning like a cat. "Nope. I nicked it off your belt. Old habits die hard y'know."

Justice frowns. "Stealing is wrong."

"Only if you get caught," Sigrun retorts cheerfully. "And need I remind you, I didn't get caught."

_She's got a point_, I chuckle to myself. "Alright you two, come on. Where to first, chantry or tavern?"

Sigrun clears her throat nervously. "You... you can help Justice first, Commander. I don't mind waiting."

I raise an eyebrow at the thought Sigrun's actually worried about finding Mischa. She never seemed worried about anything before, but facing this former friend is apparently more terrifying than genlocks, ogres, and wraiths put together. "Alright, if you're sure."

"Trust me, I'm sure," she mutters.

"Chantry it is, then." I whistle for Fade, who's wandered away tracking some interesting scent trail, and we veer off toward the chantry steps.

When we reach the top, I hear Nathaniel sigh and mutter, "It figures, actually."

"What figures?" I look up at him, mildly confused. It's just a normal chantry; with a board to post request for help, potted flowers edging the blacony, and a statue of Andraste straight in front of the doors.

"There used to be another staue here," he explains, sounding resigned; as if he doesn't know why he was surprised. "It was of Byron Howe, my great-uncle. He fought with Maric and Loghain against the Orlesians and was a hero in every sense of the word. Probably propping up a roof somewhere now."

"I can see about getting them to replace it," I offer, already know how successful _that_ would be. But it doesn't seeem right that everyone in the Howe line-even going backwards-should suffer because of what one greedy, opportunistic boot-licker did.

Nathaniel shakes his head. "Don't bother. No one would want to look at it, anyway." He all but glares at the statue of Andraste, and I have a feeling the statue's not what he's seeing. He rakes one hand through his hair in frustration. "Curse my father and his idiot ambition! He ruined _everything_ for us, didn't he?"

"Y'know, you can still turn that around, Nate," I point out, silently rejoicing. _You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that._

He gives a half-laugh that's just this side of bitter. "Not too much pressure, right?"

"Oh, c'mon, don't sell yourself short," I tease, trying to coax a smile out of him. It works, too.

"Let's just go. Statues are for pigeons, anyway," he mutters, heading for the chantry doors.

"Hey, Sigrun, would you mind staying out here with the dogs? Just to be safe?" I ask.

"Sure, I can do that," she nods, snapping her fingers to get their attention. I ruffle Fade's ears one last time before heading inside.

**oOo**

I don't see Aura in the half-empty chantry and am toying with the idea of giving up when I see a flash of blonde hair in one of the candlelit alcoves near the back. "Ah, there you are," I mutter. I make a beeline to the room, hoping I'm right. I am. "There she is," I inform Justice, pointing to her.

"Thank you, Warden," he murmurs before aproaching her. "Aura?"

She spins around, shock and apprehension scrawled across her face. "How...?"

"Please, do not be alarmed," Justice implores her, holding up a hand. "I do not wish to frighten you."

She looks closer. "You... You are the... in my husband's body."

"I am a spirit of Justice. I meant your husband no harm. I would ease your distress, had I the power."

Aura sighs in resignation. "I... knew when he left that this could happen. He told me. His father died a Grey Warden, too."

"Tell me, is there anything I can do for you?" Justice asks her. "Tell me, and I will do it."

"Avenge him, spirit," she requests, sorrow apparent in her voice. "I will wait for his ashes a little longer, if it means whoever did this to him will pay." She fixes him with a long, silent, steady look, her eyes brimming with longing and sorrow and pain. She reaches out as if to touch him, but stops just before making contact, her hand still following the curve of her husband's face.

Justice nods. "The darkspawn. Yes, I understand." Aura nods once and walks away. Justice looks over at me. "And she is gone. Tell me, did I do the right thing?"

"I think so, yes," I reply. The poor woman needs closure, but what can we do?

"She... loved this man a great deal, and he loved her," Justice says softly. "I... envy what they had." He frowns, as if that thought disturbs him. "I must think more on this, but another time. Thank you for bringing me here."

"You're very welcome," I smile. I can't help but compare Aura's strong, enduring love for her husband to Nida's 'Love can only take you so far'. _I'd like to show you how far it can take you if you're willing, you tramp._ "Let's collect Sigrun and the dogs and head for the tavern to look for Mischa, I guess. And then we can check and see if Delilah's home yet."

When we exit the chantry, both dogs are asleep, Honey's head in Sigrun's lap, and Fade's resting on Honey's back.

I raise an eyebrow at the two of them and look up at Nathaniel. "I think my dog is sweet on yours."

He chuckles. "I'd have to agree with you on that, Rahna."

"It's cute," I giggle and grin at Sigrun. "Ready to go?"

Both dogs' heads shoot up at the sound of my voice, and Sigrun scrambles to her feet. "I... guess so, Commander."

"Figured out what you're going to say if we find her?"

"I think. General idea, at least." She rubs the back of her neck, still looking like she's about to be sick.

"Hey, Sig, we don't have to do this, y'know."

She shakes her head. "Yeah, I kinda do, actually, Commander. Let's just get it over with."

**oOo**

We do find Mischa in the tavern, and I can't tell if Sigrun is more relieved or disappointed.

The red-haired dwarf frowns when she see Sigrun. "You again? Going to get me kicked out of Amaranthine, too?"

Sigrun takes a deep breath, "Mischa, I know that n-nothing I say will make things better, so I... want to give you this." She pulls out a small gold ring, slightly tarnished and missing a gem, but even I can tell it's still valuable, and hands it over.

Mischa raises an eyebrow. "A ring? What is this, a proposal? You're not my type."

"It'll-It'll fetch a fair price, even on the surface," Sigrun explains, stumbling over her words. "T-To help you rebuild your life."

Mischa examines the ring more closely, scowling when she notices the house seal stamped into the gold. "This looks like the crest of House Vollney. Stole this off a noble, did you?" she demands.

_Vollney... That must be from her friend Varlan. No wonder she was so unhappy about finding Mischa._ She's only mentioned Varlan a couple times, but I know he's the one who taught her how to read, told her about spyglasses, and generally was her only friend in the Legion. "Keep the ring," I tell her. "I'll give Mischa some gold."

The dwarf raises a skeptical eyebrow. "How much are we talkin'? I reckon this thing's worth at _least _twenty sovereigns."

_Damaged like that? Don't kid yourself, lady. _ But this is for Sigrun, not because I particularly like Mischa. "Then take thirty," I reply, digging out the gold coins. _I have plenty._

She finally smiles. "Look at the big spender... You've a true friend here, Sigrun. Try not to ruin it." She presses the ring back into Sigrun's palm. "And here's your ring-it must be important to you."

"It is. Thank you, Mischa." Sigrun closes her hand around the ring and holds it tight for a moment before returning it to the pouch on her belt.

I hand over the money. Mischa jingles the coins in her hand. "This will... go a long way. Thank you. I could start another business. You've done right, Sigrun."

Sigrun smiles and lets out a small, happy sound.

"You okay?" I ask her as Mischa leaves.

She nods. "Yes. Thank you, Commander."

"No problem. I could tell that ring's special to you, and since I have things of my own I'd rather not part with-" I rub my thumb against Alistair's amulet "-I know how hard it would have been to lose."

"Thirty sovereigns, though?" She raises an eyebrow. "You know this thing's not worth much more than fifteen, right?"

"I know. I was helping a friend."

She blinks at that. "I... Thank you."

I grin at Nathaniel. "Now that that's done, let's go see if your sister's home yet."

He nods. "If she's not we can just leave, Rahna."

"But I wouldn't want you to have wasted a trip, ser Howe," I tease, nudging him with my elbow as we head for the door.

Our path is blocked by a drunk who lurches to his feet before we can pass. He scowls at me and slurs, "Did you jus' say Howe?"

_A/N: Oh, dear... this is either going to end really, really good or really, really bad. I think you all can probably guess which, knowing me. The drunk dude's in there because I've always felt it would be interesting if you went to Amaranthine with Nathaniel in your party and someone recognized him(at least enough to know he's a Howe), either in a good way or bad. The rest of this little scenario will just have to wait; the chapter's getting long, and I need to write a certain pair of mages a chapter. =) Oh, and did anyone else cheer with the Nate convo you get off that statue(if you do it after finding Delilah, at least)? Paired with a desire to resurrect Rendon and kill him AGAIN for all the crap his whole entire family's going to suffer for a very long while because he was a stupid, greedy bastard..._


	48. Borrowing Trouble

48. Borrowing Trouble

This return trip to the base was much easier than the previous one, to Miri's vast relief. Considering that last time Ashe had been injured and Vincent and Jowan had had to do all the work clearing the blocked tunnel, she figured it wouldn't be too huge an assumption to think they'd be relieved, too.

But one glance at Jowas was all it took for Miri to know the ease of this return journey compared to the last one was the furthest thing from her best friend's mind. He was thinking about the freshly dug darkspawn tunnels, and the way they were headed roughly toward Amaranthine.

"Hey," she whispered, squeezing his hand, "Don't borrow trouble."

"I do that a lot," Jowan admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can't help it, Mir. I've always done it, and I think I always will. And there's nothing you or Rahna can do that'll change that."

"Ooh, I actually got to be _first_ this time," Miri teased, trying to get a smile out of him, "I feel so special."

"Mi-_ri_!" Jowan protested. "Knock it off. How many times do I have to tell you there's nothing there?"

"At least one more," she shot back, grinning. "I'm not giving this up, Jowan. And the more you deny it, the longer I'll rub it in your face when it turns out I'm right."

"I'm not doing this with you right now," Jowan muttered. "The mage robes, either." He was fighting a smile, she could tell. Fifteen years of friendship gave her the ability to tell at least that much. "What d'you think the commander will do about the tunnels?"

Miri played nice and accepted the redirect. "Like Vincent said; send warnings to Amaranthine and Orlais, probably. Maybe send a team down to try and fill in the tunnels."

"Won't the darkspawn just dig them again?" Jowan pointed out.

"Yes, but it could buy us time to figure out what they're up to and stop them for good," Ashe chipped in. "Sorry. Couldn't help but overhear the last bit."

Miri waved off the apology. "'Salright. Between the Circle and the Wardens, I've come to the point where anything not said behind closed doors isn't really private."

"Oh, good. Some of the Wardens I've known have been touchy about their 'private conversations'," Ashe chuckled. "But, back to the darkspawn, we'll probably suggest sending an additional note that the commanders in Amaranthine and Jader be trying to figure out why the darkspawn here want a shortcut toward their territory."

"I just hope we can find the commander quickly once we get back," Vincent added. "This is not something I feel can wait."

**oOo**

Fortunately, they all but ran into Commander Marius even as they walked into the main hall.

"Commander, we need to talk to you," Vincent informed him.

"Privacy or urgency a higher priority?" Marius asked. "There's a Warden passing through who needed to speak with me, and he may overhear if we do this now."

"Oh, urgency is definitely more important," Vincent assured him. "It isn't something that needs to be kept private at all, really."

"Alright, follow me then." The commander headed for his office, the other Wardens all trailing behind him. "Now, what so important all four of you need to be here?" he asked when they reached his office, leaning against the edge of the desk as he waited for the answer.

"We ran into an... interesting situation, Commander," Vincent began, explaining about the darkspawn, and the tunnels, and how everywhere in their Deep Roads was empty except for where the new tunnels were being dug.

"Is that all?" Marius asked when the warrior finished.

"Jowan and I could hear 'em," Miri piped up. "Like they were hollering in our heads. Something about a father and mother needing them, calling them. Really creepy, especially because they just kept repeating it over and over."

"And they sounded... desperate, too," Jowan added. "Like all that mattered to them was getting where they were wanted as soon as they could."

"And you two couldn't hear this?" Marius asked Vincent and Ashe.

"Yes and no," Ashe replied.

"We heard chittering, and we could tell it was darkspawn chatter, but we couldn't make out words like Jowan and Miri could," Vincent explained.

"Mm." The commander thought for a moment. "You look like you know a solution to this problem, Vincent."

"Yes, ser. If I may, I think we should warn the commander in Amaranthine, and possibly Jader as well, to be safe. Send some men to try and fill in the new tunnels, see if we can figure out why the darkspawn are so desperate to get through, and ask the commander in Amaranthine to be looking as well, since that's where the tunnels are heading, roughly."

"Good plan," Marius chuckled. "Keep this up, Vincent, and you'll be a commander soon y'self."

"Thank you, ser, but it wasn't entirly my idea. Ashe did contribute. In fact she's probably better suited to the job that I am, since she's been closer to politics than I ever have been or plan to be in the future," Vincent chuckled.

"Oh, hush, Vince." Ashe blushed, playfully whacking her brother's shoulder. "I only helped him a little, Commander. He's very good at this sort of thing."

"I'll take your word for it. Now we just have to figure out who to have carry the message."

"We could do it, ser," Miri offered, motioning between Jowan and herself. "Rahna-the commander in Amaranthine knows us, and would probably be more willing to give the matter the attention it requires if she hears about it from us than someone she doesn't know."

"Absolutely not." Marius shook his head. "The whole reason you're here is because I needed mages. I'm not about to send you off to Amaranthine so soon after you've arrived."

"Than what about just me?" Jowan suggested. "Miri's the better mage of the two of us, anyway, whether healing or destroying stuff. I'm not as good as her, but I can take care of myself." _I've done it before, and Maker as my witness, if I can help Rahna stay alive, I'll do it again._

"Well..." Marius hesitated.

"Surely you're not thinking of sending a mage alone, Commander!" a new voice, heavy with a nasal Orlesian accent, protested as the dissenter stormed into the office, dark brown eyes flashing with fury. "Mages cannot be trusted, no? They will turn on you, or become abominations or something equally horrible!"

"We've done alright so far," Miri growled, scowling at the intruder as her hands curled into fists.

"Don't," Jowan muttered under his breath, grabbing her arm as the first hints of an ice spell formed around one fist. He knew she wanted nothing more to freeze the arrogant bastard to the floor-and he wished he could let her-but it would only prove tha man's point.

However, the rapid movement caught the new arrival's gaze, and his eyes narrowed at the scars that marked Jowan's wrist. "You are a _**blood mage**_?" he demanded, practically spitting the last two words.

"Not anymore," Jowan retorted.

"And the Wardens will take anyone, regardless of class, race, or past," Marius pointed out, voice tight with frustration. "You will do well to remember that, ser Caron. You are a Warden now, _not_ a templar."

_Oh. Great._ Jowan bit back a groan at the Maker's sense of humor. _A former templar. Living with him will be fun._

"Understood. Apologies, Commander," Caron replied, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "When you spend your life devoted to one set of ideals, switching to another is not always easy."

"I understand that, but you have to. You will be asked to work with and trust mages at some point in your Warden career, so the sooner you can do so, the better." He turned to the others. "This is Zimri Caron. He's here from Ostwick."

"Only temporarily, Commander," Zimri corrected. "Apparently the garrison in Amaranthine needs reinforcements, and I have become Ostwick's offering to that end."

Jowan frowned. _What does he know that we don't?_ Rahna had never mentioned being short on men in her letters. Of course, given what she'd managed to accomplish with just herself and one other Warden, he doubted she'd ever complain about a lack of soldiers. "Why?"

"I don't know details, _mage_-"

"Jowan," the mage interrupted. "My name is Jowan and hers is Miri," he informed the dark-haired warrior, motioning toward his best friend. "I can't speak for her, but I would appreciate it if you used my name when speaking to me. Since I _am_ a fellow Warden."

Zimri scoffed at that. "I was stationed at the Circle in Montsimmard before I joined the Wardens, _**mage**_. I have seen more of your kind succumb to demons than you could count on both hands," he snarled. "Mages who had passed their Harrowing, mages you would never think to see fall, I have seen them twisted beyond recognition by demons. Forgive me if I can't see you as an equal."

_Then I don't think I'll be telling you I'm not even Harrowed..._ Jowan decided, even as he tried to come up with a reply.

Miri beat him to it. "And I have seen paranoid templars kill more innocents than you could number, twisting their duty into something it was never intended to be," she shot back, positively _livid _with rage.

"There_ is _no such thing as an innocent mage," Zimri seethed, glaring at her.

"Enough!" Marius pounded his fist down on his desk. "Zimri, I assume your reassignment orders comes from the First Warden? He's the only one with the authority to supercede a commander."

Zimri nodded. "They do."

"Very well." Marius nodded, grinning slyly. "Even if I can't contradict them, I can... _alter_ them slightly. You will still go to Amaranthine, as ordered. You can rest here for a day or so, restock from our supplies before continuing on, but Jowan's going with you."

"Commander, I must protest-"

"The only thing you _**must**_ do is follow orders," the commander cut him off, his grin widening as he glanced sideways at Ashe and Miri, who were both faking coughing jags to hide fits of giggles. "It's too dangerous to travel alone, you have to get to Amaranthine, Jowan is taking a message for me, you will travel together, and all our problems are solved quite handily. Dismissed." He waved a hand toward the door, indicating the conversation was over.

"But-"

"_**Dismissed.**_" The casual wave became a stridently pointed finger, leaving no room for argument.

Zimri scoffed once more in exasperation before spinning and storming from the office.

Marius looked at Jowan. "Well, I guess you get your wish."

Jowan smiled. "Thank you, ser."

"I don't feel I deserve thanks for trapping you with him for almost a week," the commander replied. "Hope it's worth it."

"I'll get to see a very good friend at the end of it, ser. Trust me, it's worth it," Jowan laughed, ignoring Miri's not-so-subtle snicker.

"Good. You can all go as well, I suppose." He turned to Vincent and Ashe. "With it being your plan, would you please compose the message?"

They nodded. "Of course," Ashe replied, tugging her brother toward the door. "Come on, Vince."

**oOo**

"When are you gonna admit she's more than just a very good friend?" Miri demanded as she plunked down in the middle of Jowan's bed.

He sighed, closing the door and glaring halfheartedly at her. "Come off it already, Miri. That's all she is."

"Why don't I believe you?" she teased, crossing her legs, and propping her chin on her hand.

"I don't know," Jowan returned as he started pulling out clothes to pack. "Why don't you tell me."

"If you insist. Something in me just thinks there's something there, that's all." Miri grinned at him.

"Such incredibly strong evidence you have, Mir," he teased. "Certainly enough to warrant pushing something despite repeated denials."

"Hey, it's this or the mage robes again," she retorted.

"Oh, sure, I'll wear them and they can be a constant reminder to Zimri of why he supposedly can't trust me," Jowan shot back with a smirk.

"Ooookay, so that might not be the best idea," Miri conceded. She bit her lip. "Whaddya think he'd do if he found out you never had your Harrowing?"

"Probably kill me on the spot," he replied. "Un-Harrowed mage loose in the world as long as I was? He'd figure I have to be possessed."

"Then I guess we better make sure he doesn't find out," Miri mumbled.

"Hey, who's borrowing trouble now?" Jowan teased, sitting next to her on the bed. "Besides, the only people who know my story and the not-really-dead thing who also know I'm not Harrowed are you and Rahna. I doubt she'll tell anyone. So no one else'll ever know, assuming you can keep a secret for once in your life."

"Oh, you..." Miri made a face at him and shoved him off the bed. "I can so keep a secret. Maybe not as well as _you_, but I can do it."

"Alright, low blow." Jowan muttered, rolling his eyes as he hauled himself off the floor. He knew what she meant by him keeping secrets. "I thought that was forgiven and behind us and everything."

"It is. Mostly." Miri stuck out her tongue at him. "I'm still gonna drag it out to give you a hard time every once in a while."

"Brat," he mumbled under his breath. "I need you to leave, anyway, Mir."

"Why?" she asked, uncrossing her legs and frowning at him in confusion.

"Because I need to change," he replied, stripping off his sweaty, dirt-streaked shirt and lobbing it at the bed. "And even if you are my best friend, you're still a girl. Out."

"Ah. Good reason." Miri grinned impishly as she dodged the shirt and made for the door. "See you later, then."

"Bye, Miri," Jowan chuckled as the door closed behind her. _I'm going to miss you while I'm gone..._

_A/N: Three main things. 1)Sorry this is kinda short. My computer ate the whole darn thing again, and I lost about half a page that I cannot for the life of me remember when I typed it back up. 2)I blame my sister for the commander's name being Marius. This is why we don't write with _Les Miserables_ playing in the background... AND 3) Feel free to boo Zimri as much as you like/concoct nasty ways to kill him/hate him forever etc etc etc. He is really this bad. He will probably get worse before I'm done with him(unless Rahna kills him first. xD). He really is based off a Caron I made, just one who never made it past the Withered before I deleted him. He gonna be real fun to write. So what is that, three origins I have left to work in now? Hmmm... *brainstorms*_


	49. Too Perfect

49. Too Perfect

I size up the drunkard, noting he look more like a farmer than, say, an off-duty soldier, as I nod. "Yes. I said Howe. What of it?"

The man spits on the floor, glaring at Nathaniel. "That bastard wasn't fit to be in charge of a farmstead, let alone an arling. 'e didn't care two coppers fer the common folk. Wot of my crop the darkspawn didn't destroy, 'is men carried off." He weaves a bit, but stays on his feet by gripping the back of his chair, gesturing broadly with his free hand. Honey's ears twitch backwards, her hackles raised and a growl rumbling in her throat. I know exactly how she feels, but Nathaniel simply rests a hand on her head to calm her down.

_I'd love to know how he does that..._ I wonder as I watch the mabari relax, still eyeing the farmer warily.

Good thing too, because he's not done. "An' this is all before he abandoned us t' go play teryn and chief boot-licker t' th' regeant," the drunk growls.

_Enough's enough,_ I decide, knowing by the very fact Nathaniel hasn't said a thing that he's close to losing the battle with his temper. "And Rendon Howe has paid for any and all crimes he commited with his _life_, ser. But they are _his crimes_, not his children's." I want to hit him. Or just tickle the underside of his bony chin with my dagger.

He scoffs. "Wot's a knife-ear know about that man's crimes, anyway?"

"Considering a number of them were commited against my family too, quite a bit," I shoot back, bristling. "But you can't blame his children for what he did."

"Can an' do, wench. Th' apple don't fall far from the tree." He's trying to pick a fight. There's no other explanation for why he's pushing so hard. Or why he makes sure to look straight at Nathaniel as he finishes, "If y' ask me, Ferelden would be better off if the whole family were dead."

_That does it._ To my shock however, it's not Nathaniel, or Honey, or even _me_ who makes him pay for that final remark. Sigrun ducks between me and Nathaniel, hooks one foot behind the drunk's ankle, and lands him-hard-on his back.

She plants one knee on his chest and digs the edge of her dirk into the skin of his throat _just_ enough to draw blood. "Keep your mouth shut about people you don't know," the dwarf snarls. "It's a fast way to end up dead."

_Where in the Maker's name did that come from?_ I wonder as I grab Nathaniel's arm and tug him toward the door. I don't think he'd do anything stupid, but better safe than sorry. "Fade, Honey, come on!"

The two mabari both growl at the fallen man, as if telling him to stay down, before following me out of the tavern.

**oOo**

"What was _that_?" I demand almost before the tavern door's had time to close behind us.

"That was me reverting to a duster with a hair-trigger temper when you insult my salroka," Sigrun answers, not looking the least bit sorry. "C'mon, Commander, you can't tell me that nug-humper didn't deserve it."

"Course he deserved it," I snort. "You stole my fun. But thanks. I probably would've killed him."

"Same here," Nathaniel mutters, anger still evident in his voice.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Awful vindictive for you, N-" I stop myself. "It's 'cause of Delilah, isn't it?"

He nods. "He can say what he likes about my father, or even about me, but Delilah was as much a victim as anyone."

I'm inclined to think she's even more of a victim than anyone else; considering the man was supposed to love her, not terrify and ignore her. "I understand, Nate. You gonna be alright?" If he needs to go hit something, I'll let him. I know what this kind of anger feels like, what it can do to you.

Another nod. "I'll be fine." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" I ask, looking up at him as we start walking toward Delilah's house.

"Not get angry," he clarifies. "Like with the mob leader."

"Oh, the whole 'knife-eared bitch' thing? Very sweet of you and Anders to get so mad at him for that, by the way." I grin, following it with a shrug. "Years of practice. Honestly, aside from the fact I have a pretty thick skin when it comes to me personally-people I care about is a different animal entirely-I've heard that my entire life. Lost its sting when I was about thirteen. Humans in Denerim don't care what your name is, or that you have one at all. Over half of 'em just stick to callin' elves knife-ear, no matter what. After the third or fourth time gettin' smacked, you learn to stop protesting and just accept it."

"I see."

"I know not all humans are like that," I add hastily. "You're not, Anders isn't, Alistair and Wynne weren't. Varel doesn't seem to care, either. But enough _are_ like that that you just... get used to it. Or you get in trouble, which usually means maimed or dead." _Like my mother_. I leave that unsaid, mostly because I don't feel like tearing open old wounds right now. "I think you're just gonna have to do the same; get used to it. Or save the world so people forget about your father completely."

He snorts. "I don't see that happening any time soon, Rahna."

"Hey, I told you not to sell yourself short," I remind him with a grin. "You never know. If one man could wreck the family name, why couldn't you turn that around?"

"Destroying something is easier than repairing it," he points out. "_Especially_ a family name."

"I'll have to give you that one," I concede reluctantly, playing with one of my pigtails. "Since I lack experience with ruining or rebuilding family names. But I figure we'll probably end up saving the day around here sooner or later, and since I drag you _everywhere_ with me, you'll be in on it. It'd be a step in the right direction at least."

Nathaniel chuckles. "Maker, Rahna, you're incorrigible."

I laugh. "I know. It's a gift. And occasionally a curse," I admit with a wry smile as we round the final corner before Delilah's house.

This time, the door opens a few seconds after Nathaniel knocks, and Delilah's whole face lights up when she sees her brother. "Nate! I didn't think you'd come by again so soon."

"Is this a bad time?"

"Of course not, silly," she laughs, grinning as she motions for him to come in. "We just got back from the Henleys-Mona apparently thinks I'm going to starve to death with Albert gone-but I always have time for you."

I have to ask. "'We'?"

Her grins widens. "Me and Vi."

_Oh, Maker, this is too perfect._ "Well, then. Two guests is plenty of strain on your hospitality, I'm sure, so we'll go find some other way to occupy ourselves, and be back for Nate later."

Delilah nods. "If I don't answer the door when you get back, feel free to just walk in."

"Alright." I make sure we're gone before Nathaniel has time to protest, Sigrun and I both giggling like crazy.

"You're evil, Commander, you know that?" she manages between fits of laughter.

"Nonsense. I'm just giving him the push he needs to talk to the girl," I retort. "But let's see what we can find to keep ourselves busy while we wait."

"The Merchants' Guild had a board with requests on it," she suggests, gesturing back behind us.

"And I believe I saw one by the Chantry as well," Justice adds.

"We can check both of them." I snap my fingers to get the dogs to follow as we head away from Delilah's. Honey doesn't budge at first, but Fade barks at her, the sound trailing into a hurt whine. She looks at the closed door for a minute, as if deciding whether her human will be alright without her, and apparently settles on yes, because she trots up to join us.

Fade lets out a happy bark and licks her face.

"Alright you two, no flirting in public." I roll my eyes. _My mabari's luckier in love than me..._

**oOo**

"How many's that?" I ask as I snatch up a dark brown glass bottle.

"Um... four," Sigrun answers after glancing in the small sack we're using to hold the poison. "That's all there were, right?"

I nod. "Yep. Far as Kendrick knows."

"Warden, this seems a rather pointless pursuit," Justice comments as I gingerly slide the last bottle in the sack.

"I don't want a child getting their hands on this just because some idiot was dumb enough to leave them lying around," I reply. "Trust me, this is nothing compared to some of the stuff I had to do during the Blight."

"How so?" Sigrun asks as we head back toward Kendrick.

"Finding a lost sextant paid well, but boy, did Morrigan give me the evil eye for agreeing to look for it."

"Morrigan?" The dwarf cocks her head to the side. "Don't think I've heard you mention her before, Commander."

"She was a mage, lived in the Wilds until she began traveling with me. Her people skills weren't much better than Velanna's, to be honest," I explain with a wry smile. _She just lacked the quick temper._

"You talk about your other friends a lot. How come you never mention her?"

Sigrun's innocent question stirs memories I want to leave buried for a good long while. "We... had a falling out, just before the final battle, and she left."

"That was unworthy of her," Justice mutters darkly.

"Well, she warned me she would leave if I didn't- agree to an idea of hers, so I suppose the blame is partially on me."

"Still, it is not right to abandon a friend in their moment of need." The spirit seems incensed on my behalf, which I find sweet.

"Thanks for that, but what's done is done, and I don't even know where she is now," I sigh. "I'd just as soon leave the past in the past." Thankfully, they both take the hint and don't ask about her anymore. We reach Kendrick and I trade the sack of poison bottles for a small pouch of gold coins. "Alright, on to the Chantry board."

**oOo**

Of the quests on the Chantry board, only one seems promising without leaving the city. Considering I now count a former maleficar _and_ an apostate among my closer friends, I can't help but be wary of the posting about tracking down blood mages. They might not actually be blood mages; just apostates. And whatever my feelings about blood magic, I do feel the Chantry is too harsh on apostates.

Most of rest would require going to the Wending Wood or Blackmarsh, and I just don't have time for that right now. The one that doesn't is a request from the Chantry for someone to do something about groups of thugs who are extorting money from people in and around the city.

_Well, that's promising._ I pull the notice down to take inside so I can get some more details from the Revered Mother. It was tacked on top of another notice, this one faded, weather-beaten, and outdated. I start to crumple it when some of the words catch my attention-namely _poisoning_ and _Eamon_. I scan the cramped handwriting and can't help but smirk as I crumple it into a tight wad, not sure whether to laugh at the irony or hunt down the writer and give him an earful.

"What?" Sigrun demands. "What're you smirking for?"

"Here." I toss her the balled up parchement.

She reads it slowly, mouthing the words as we head inside the chantry. "I still don't see what's so funny about this, Commander. It's some Chantry brother wringing his hands about a blood mage who poisoned an arl and escaped."

"Jowan's a really good friend of mine," I explain. "And a Grey Warden now, _and_ he no longer uses blood magic, so this thing's not worth the ink it was written with any more."

"Oh." She frowns. "He poisoned someone? And I thought you hated blood magic."

"It's a really long story, Sig," I chuckle. "But, yes. To both. He did poison Arl Eamon and I do hate blood magic. Maybe on the way back to the Vigil I'll explain. But I don't think discussing my _former_ blood mage friend in the chantry is a good idea, you know?"

"Oh, right. I do wanna hear the story, though, Commander." She grins suddenly. "Is that the friend I overheard Anders teasing you about a while back?"

I moan and bury my face in my hand. "You overheard that? And yes, it's that friend, and no, he's not more than a friend."

"Whatever you say, Commander." She's still grinning.

I roll my eyes and ignore her as I catch the Revered Mother's attention to get more details on these thugs. She's able to point me in the general direction of the neighborhoods they've been leaning on the hardest. It's vague, but it's something. And since I can practically see Justice's growing anger at the injustice, I think it would be a good idea to deal with them as fast as possible. I'll miss having an archer, but with both mabari along, I think we can manage.

**oOo**

"No, please!"

"You think the guards will protect you?"

The muffled exchange reaches my ears as we approach the most secluded of the houses near the city walls. I can see how the thugs might think they could get away with threatening someone out here. Unlike the other cases where we intervened; with houses in plain sight, when the thugs would have to be dead sure there would be no intervention to even try extorting money, this one is set back and half-hidden.

"Hey, leave her alone!" I holler at the armor-clad qunari towering over a terrified brunette. Maybe this in-your-face plan of attack isn't the best when I'm missing a Warden, but I can't help it.

The burly dwarf accompanying the qunari whirls around. "Looks like somebody want t' play hero!" he mocks, pulling out his axe and charging at me. Fade knocks him over, his paws slamming solidly into the dwarf's shoulders as Honey lunges for the human behind him.

Justice doesn't wait for me to give the order before drawing his sword and going after the qunari. I move to help him, yelling for Sigrun to watch our backs. _This is where either a mage or Nathaniel would be very handy..._ But I don't have any of the above at my disposal, so we'll have to make do.

Her response is to finish off the dwarf Fade tackled, slitting his throat with her dirk before moving on to the human.

My moment of distraction costs me dearly, as the handle of the qunari's battleaxe catches me across the chest and sends me flying into a nearby fencepost hard enough my arm goes momentarily numb. _Ow._ I nearly drop my sword as the prickling pins and needles feeling crests and then fades. I duck under the backswing from the huge axe, and twist forward, jamming my sword through one of the armor's weak points just under the qunari's arm.

He bellows and wrenches away, nearly tearing my sword out of my hand. The damage is done, though. I hit _something_ important, because he stumbles, sways, and his attempt to block Justice's killing blow is so feeble it hardly deterrs the furious spirit.

"This injustice ends here!" There's far more passion in his voice than I would expect from him, but he's settled himself before the qunari's headless corpse has hit the ground.

"You alright?" I demand anyway. "That wasn't like you."

"I... apologize, Warden. I was so angered by the thought of the injustices these mortals have visited upon the helpless that I... could not help myself." He lowers his gaze, staring at the ground rather than meet my eyes.

"They were criminals, so it's perfectly fine," I explain. "Just be sure you never go after an innocent like that."

He nods. "I shall be more careful from now on. I am... unused to the human emotions I feel in Kristoff's mind. They caught me off guard. I shall restrain myself in the future."

"Good. Let's check for anymore of these thugs, and then get back to the chantry."

By the time we've made it back to the chantry and assured the Revered Mother the thugs will no longer be a threat-which has no reward attached other than the satisfaction of a job well done-it's been long enough I don't feel guilty about heading back to Delilah's house to pick up Nathaniel.

**oOo**

She doesn't answer when I knock, which I assume means no one heard me. From what I remember of the way Delilah's house was set up, there's the front room, but then another room toward the back near the kitchen. If they're back there, I can see how she wouldn't hear. "You guys wait out here with the dogs, alright?"

Sigrun nods in response to my request and rests a hand on each mabari's head to keep them still. "Don't be too long, Commander."

"I won't," I promise, mounting the steps and nudging open the door. I close it behind me and head toward the back of the house. That's when I hear it.

Nathaniel's _laughing_. And not a wry chuckle or indulgent half-laugh like I get out of him, either. A real, true, honest to goodness _laugh_.

_I must be dreaming._ I decide, after stopping dead in my tracks out of pure astonishment._ That qunari hit me harder than I thought and I'm dreaming._

I make it back to the kitchen and rap my knuckles against the doorframe. "Sorry to interrupt, but I need my archer back."

"Coming, Rahna." Nathaniel pushes back from the table and reaches for his bow, which is leaning against the wall.

"Wait a minute," Delilah orders playfully. "You're not leaving before I get a hug, brother."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Nathaniel chuckles as he obliges her. He nods a farewell to Vi, who mumbles "G'bye, Nathaniel," in a tone that makes it even more painfully obvious she likes him.

We've hardly made it outside before I demand, "Was I going crazy, or did I actually hear you laugh in there?"

"No way," Sigrun chips in as we head for the city gates once again.

Nathaniel just smiles. "Let's just say you were right, Commander."

"About what?" I cross my arms and walk backwards to stare at him better.

His smile widens. "Vi."

And to my complete and utter frustration, he doesn't say another word about it the whole way back to the Vigil.

_A/N: Nathaniel, you evil man, you. Okay, Rahna kinda does deserve it, but still. That's just cruel. __ You know your commander has an overdeveloped sense of curiosity. =P __And the referenced Chantry board posting about Jowan poisoning Arl Eamon is from the (bugged)sidequest you get if you let him go in Origins, like Rahna did. It's been over a year since that would have gone up(she's at just over 8 months post-Drakon, and letting Jowan go was like 6 months before **that**), so I figured it would be faded and buried under stuff by now._


	50. Memory Lane

50. Memory Lane

_"The most I ever did for you was outlive you. But that was much." ~Edna St. Vincent Millay_

"Come on, tell me," I beg for what seems the hundredth time but is probably closer to the twentieth. Either way, Nathaniel has the patience of a saint to have put up with me this long.

"Rahna. Not yet," he replies, the same thing he's been saying since we left the city.

I huff in frustration and shoot him a dirty look. "I think I'm beginning to agree with Velanna; you can be _exasperating_."

He smirks. "Then I suppose we have something in common."

"I... You..." I groan. "Maker, I give up. And I heard that giggle, Sigrun."

The dwarf looks at me guiltily but doesn't seen particularly sorry. "I... don't know what you're talkin' about, Commander."

"Sure ya don't." I roll my eyes. "I still think I'll walk with someone who'll actually _talk to me_ for a while." The last part is aimed at Nathaniel, who just shrugs it off.

"Pick a different topic and I'd be perfectly willing to talk to you, Commander," he points out.

"But there's only one thing I'm curious about right now," I protest. "An' you won't talk about it."

He shakes his head. "It's too soon, and there's not really much to talk about."

"I... I guess I understand that," I mutter. Considering he's being much more gracious about the prodding than I was in the early stages of my relationship with Alistair, I let it go. "I'll just go talk to Sigrun and try to squelch my irrepressibly curious nature." I grin at him. "But you _will_ talk to me about her."

"Eventually," Nathaniel promises with a small smile.

"I can live with that," I concede. "I'm gonna go talk to Sigrun now..."

He chuckles. "You do that."

**oOo**

I don't know how she does it, but somehow Sigrun manages to wait until we've made camp for the night our second day out from the city before she reminds me of my promise to tell her about Jowan.

"Thanks for reminding me, Sig." I grin as I sit next to her on the fallen log she's using as a stool while she prepares dinner. I'm mildly curious how a dwarf from Dust Town winds up being a better cook than I am, but that can wait. "Between harassing Nathaniel and goofing off with Fade, I clean forgot."

"Don't worry about it," she chuckles. "So long as one of us remembers, no harm done. Now talk."

"Aye, aye. Where should I start?"

"How 'bout with how you met him in the first place?"

"In the dungeon of the arl he poiosned. He told me what he'd done, that he was a blood mage, everything."

"So what made you let him go?" She's frowning in confusion, much like Alistair did at the time.

"He was sorry. Loghain had tricked him into poisoning Eamon, and he said he wanted nothing more than to make up for everything he's done." I shrug. "I believed him. When you spend your life picking pockets and scamming nobles to avoid starving to death, you learn how to read people, you know?"

She nods. "I do."

"Alistair wasn't very happy with me for that. It was the first major disagreement we had since the onset of our rather mutual attraction, and he was still giving me a hard time about it a couple weeks later. But I _believed_ Jowan. And I knew if he stayed there-even to help-his only options would be execution there or execution back at the Circle. There's a rather no-tolerance policy when it comes to blood magic."

"No, really?" Sigrun comments dryly. "I hadn't noticed. But if you just let him go, how'd he end up one of your best friends?"

"After the Battle of Denerim my friend Zevran and I decided to adventure around Ferelden, no particular goal in mind. Well, I was trying to move past losing Alistair, but other than that, there was no plan. And then, in this little town essentially in the middle of nowhere, I meet this man who seems to know me, but I don't remember ever meeting him. Turned out to be Jowan. Long story short, he saved our necks when Zev's habit of womanizing pissed off a couple of the local men, and I asked him to travel with us. We spent a few months traveling around Ferelden before we ran into some darkspawn, Jowan saved my neck again, and that's when I decided to suggest he join the Wardens. It took him a while to make up his mind, but he did join when we made it to Weisshaupt."

"So where's he now?"

"Free Marches somewhere." I shrug. "They needed mages. He writes on occasion. More than Zevran. But that's understandable, considering Zev's trying to single-handedly take on the Crows."

"You miss him." It's not a question, but I still nod.

"I miss both of 'em. Jowan maybe just a _little _bit more," I admit.

"Mmm."

"Not like _that_, Sig!" I protest. "He's a really good friend, one of the best I've ever had, but that's it."

"If you say so..."

"I hear a 'but' in there, Sigrun."

She shoots me a teasing grin. "Isn't friendship how the best romances start?"

I groan. "Why do I have the feeling you're going to be even worse than Anders about this?"

Her grin turns innocent. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Commander. Can you go tell Nathaniel and Justice the food's ready?"

I let out a mock growl of frustration. "Fine." I head over to where the two of them are talking, just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation about... body switching.

"Would such a thing even be permitted?" Justice asks. "Would it not be considered abominable?"

"If they're dead, it's not as if they need the body, Justice," Nathaniel points out.

"But I can still feel the man who once lived. I know his body, his..." He shakes his head. "It is not just a body."

"That's... good, isn't it? I'd rather you felt that way," Nathaniel replies.

"Perhaps you are right," Justice concedes, as both of them notice me approaching.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Sigrun says dinner's ready." I motion back over my shoulder toward where the dwarf sits with her big pot of stew.

"We'll be right there. Thanks, Rahna," Nathaniel nods, pushing off the rock he'd been sitting on.

All four of us are quiet as we eat, focused more on the food and our personal thoughts than each other, and it's not until we're cleaning up that I speak.

"Sorry," I mutter to Nathaniel, elaborating when he raises an eyebrow at me. "For pushing about Vi."

"It's alright. I know you well by now I would have been surprised if you _hadn't_ asked, to be honest," he replies with a half smile.

"No, I've been there, and I still don't know how I restrained myself from strangling Leliana when she pushed me about Alistair," I admit, chuckling wryly. "So I know it's frustrating, and I shouldn't have kept pushing. For that I really am sorry."

"It's forgiven." He smiles. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks." I grin and turn my attention back to cleaning bowls.

**oOo**

_"What is it this time, Rahna?" Alistair's question is edged in an indulgent chuckle as I plunk down next to him._

_ "__**Them**__." I jerk my head back toward where Leliana and Wynne are talking. "I swear, if I get interrogated one more time about you and me, someone's getting fed to the darkspawn."_

_ He laughs and nudges my shoulder with his. "So about you and me..."_

_ "Shut __**up**__!" I'm laughing as I whack him._

_ "You have to admit, Rahna, when you abandon a point you're supposed to be defending in order to come flying to my rescue, it does raise questions," he points out with a grin._

_ "I'd've done the same damn thing for anyone else!" I protest._

_ "But they aren't warriors," Alistair reminds me. "I was wearing more armor than the rest of you put together."_

_ "I still tend to worry when people I care about get mobbed by bloody walking skeletons," I mutter. "Maybe next time I'll let them have you."_

_ He chuckles. "No, you won't. I'm too adorable."_

_ I huff in exasperation, blowing wisps of hair out of my eyes. "True. And I couldn't steal your cheese anymore. That would be a shame." I grin at him impishly._

_ "Yes, it would, you little thief." He taps the end of my nose with one finger._

_ "Oh, come on, I know you don't mind __**that**__ much," I tease, wrinkling my nose and scooting closer to lean my head on his shoulder._

_ "Y'know, things like this are only going to make them talk more," Alistair points out with a laugh as he wraps an arm loosely around my shoulders._

_ "Eh, they're gonna talk anyway," I mutter, snuggling even closer. "And I'm chilly."_

_ "Maybe if you were wearing a shirt with actual __**sleeves**__," he teases, gently tugging the end of my tunic's short sleeve._

_ "I think I'd rather have an excuse to sit next to you," I riposte. "Let 'em talk."_

_ "I'll remind you you said that next time you complain," he informs me cheerfully._

_ "Of course you will. You wouldn't be __**you**__ otherwise."_

**oOo**

"So what was Alistair like?" Sigrun asks the next day, pulling me out of a _very_ good memory and back to reality. "If you don't mind talking about him," she adds hastily.

"I don't," I assure her. "Anything in particular?"

"What made you like him?"

I chuckle at the memory. "He made me laugh. Right off the bat, even though we were facing near-impossible odds, had a better than decent chance of being dead before the day was out, he made me laugh. Made some joke about there not being enough women in the Grey Wardens."

"What did you say to that?"

"We're too smart for them. Which he promptly countered with wondering what that made me." I giggle. "I told him it made me incredibly unlucky. After that night, the battle..." I sigh. "Alistair lost his mentor and his half brother at Ostagar. It hit him _really_ hard. Morrigan wouldn't stop sneering about him being a childish fool, but I... it made me like him even more. That he could be a tough, strong warrior and still cry when he lost someone who was special to him. He was there for me-just as a friend, at this point-when I woke screaming from the archdemon nightmares, explained the Wardens' connection to the darkspawn, as well as the other side effects I'd feel from the Joining. And the flirting..." I have to laugh again at yet another memory. "Maker's breath, for being as innocent as he was, the man knew how to flirt."

"Innocent?" Sigrun raises an eyebrow at me.

"Let's just say we were each other's firsts and leave it at that, aye?" I shoot her a meaningful look.

She nods. "I can do that, Commander. When did things get serious?"

"About a month in, I guess. Maybe a little less, a little more. It was after we'd helped the mages with their demon problem. He gave me a rose. Beautiful thing; deep crimson. He said he'd found in in Lothering, surviving and blooming despite the odds and the death that surrounded it and... it reminded him of me." I sigh, my eyes sliding closed as the remembered conversation echoes out of the past.

**oOo**

_ "I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this... darkness."_

_ I blush and giggle, hardly able to help myself, before smirking at him impishly. "So... are we married now?"_

_ He laughs, eyes twinkling with mirth. "You won't land me that easily, woman! I know I'm quite the prize, after all. No need to start crying on me or anything." He sobers, shrugs. "I dunno. It was just a stupid impulse. Was it the wrong one?"_

_ I shake my head, feeling the blush burn hotter. "No. Not at all, Alistair. Thank you."_

_ His shoulders sag with relief. "Good. I'm glad you like it." The mischievous gleam returns to his eyes. "Now, if we could just move right on past this awkward, embarassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."_

_ I know he's joking, because I know __**him**__. "Sounds good," I counter, reaching up to tug on a buckle. "Off with the armor, then."_

_ Alistair laughs nervously, his face going scarlet. "Bluff called! Damn, she saw right through me."_

_ I grin at him. "You so bloody cute we're you're bashful, you know that?"_

_ "I'll be..." He clears his throat. "I'll be standing over there. 'Til the blushing stops. Just to be, uh, safe. Y'know how it is..."_

_ I laugh and finger the rose's petals as he all but runs to hide in his tent. Maker above, what did I do to deserve that man?_

**oOo**

"He was... he was my shield," I finish, pushing away the threatening tears. "He always made sure to defend me, protect me. No matter what it cost him personally. And there were multiple times before Fort Drakon when it almost cost him everything." This time the memories make me shudder; full of blood and sweat and magic and the sheer terror I would lose him.

"You were lucky to have him," Sigrun says softly.

"I know." My hand curls around the amulet. "And I do miss him an awful lot. But life goes on, so I have to, too. It's getting... well, not _better_. Less hard, I guess."

"Time heals all wounds?" She raises an eyebrow at me.

"Or at least numbs them enough we can soldier on," I correct.

"Sounds about right to me."

"But that's a depressing topic, and we should talk about something else, I think," I mutter. "What kind of mischief you think Andes has gotten up to with us gone?"

She giggles. "Not sure, but I'd wager a sovereign Velanna was on the receiving end."

"Oh, I hope so..."

_A/N: Fifty chapters? Holy moley, how'd that happen? Rahna and Co are more talkative than I ever dreamed..._

_Anyway, to business: It's fun to write Nathaniel being evil. Very, very fun. Now to scheme a way write more of him and Vi... xD And I love writing Rahna's flashbacks. She and Alistair were so perfect for each other, they're really bittersweet now. But she's healing, like she sorta says. Just needs time. Next chapter they'll be back to the keep I guess. Unless Gabriel hijacks the whole thing again. =P_


	51. Deep Breath Before the Plunge

51. Deep Breath Before the Plunge

_I just can't walk away, 'cause after loving you _

_I can never be the same _

_And how can I pretend I never knew you _

_Like it was all a dream, no _

_I know I'll never forget, The way I always felt with you beside me _

_And how you loved me then _

-Red

By the time we make it back to the Vigil, I already have a list going of things I need to accomplish. High on the list is talking to Wade. I know he likes working with rare and exotic materials, so I'm wondering if he can do something with the dragonbone Nathaniel found in the Blackmarsh.

"So how'd it go?" Anders asks as we walk through the gate, Pounce darting over to greet the dogs. Honey licks him and he makes a noise of feline protest before hiding behind Anders.

"Aside from a drunken idiot I _really_ wish you'd been there to fry, not bad at all," I reply with a grin. "And what about you? All better?"

He laughs. "Yes, thanks. You can stop worrying about me now. No permenant damage, just a scar."

"I saw. Y'know some women like scars," I comment, thinking of Gabriel telling me how Miri likes his collection of scars.

"This is true," he agrees with a grin. "Oh, and I taught Velanna some more healing spells. Practically had to glue her mouth shut so she'd sodding listen, but she's now _almost_ as good as me."

"Almost, huh?" I tease as Nathaniel and Sigrun head inside the keep.

"I have to make sure you have a reason to keep me around," he points out with a grin.

"Pssh, Anders, I will _always_ keep you around. You're just too much fun," I retort. "Didja get a chance to read the book I left for you?"

He nods as we make our way back toward the keep. "I did. Where'd you get that? I've never heard of magic like that before."

"Oh, um, when we were in the Brecilian Forest. We went in these elven ruins that were beyond ancient," I explain. "There was a... Presence, a spirit, trapped in a phylactery-like gem thing that had been there for centuries. It had been an arcane warrior-its term, not mine-and was willing to tell me some of the secrets it still remembered if I would give it release. I agreed. Tell me the idea of being more protected when something like that bloody pride demon is after you doesn't have some appeal, you know?"

He nods. "Was it useful to you then?"

I scoff. "Wynne spent the rest of our quest or whatever you wanna call it wearin' armor, so I'd say yes. It works, it's helpful, and considering you have this habit of not getting far enough out of the line of fire in fights, I think you should give it a try."

He shoots me a curious look. "You have an extra set of armor lyin' around somewhere?"

I grin at him. "I'll see what I can do. Right now I need to get some things and talk to Wade. Oh, and is Hayden still here?"

Anders shakes his head. "He left yesterday. The queen apparently wanted him back."

"Ah. Well, their wedding is soon, so she might be to the point of needing his help."

"He seemed rather torn about going back, to be honest," the mage comments.

"Probably misses Anora, but doesn't want to be stuck helping with all the more feminine aspects of planning a wedding," I point out.

"You sound like you know how this works," Anders teases.

"Considering I came _this_ close to getting married, I should," I retort.

Both his eyebrows shoot up at that. "_You_... married? Really?"

I laugh and punch him in the arm. "Shut up! Yes, I almost got married."

"Ah. Well, operating off the assumption that's where that gold ring you bloody refuse to take off came from, I'm going to guess you weren't the one to end things."

"Neither of us _wanted_ to," I reply softly, twisting the band around. "He... he was killed trying to rescue me when the arl's son kidnapped a bunch of the women for... _entertainment_."

Anders scowls. "Bastard."

"Tell me about it," I agree. "I've killed a lot of people and other things since joining the Wardens, done a lot of things, but _nothing_ has given me the same sense of satisfaction as slitting that pig's throat."

"You scare me sometimes," he teases.

"I'm not going to _lie_," I retort, crossing my arms. "He needed to die. And while, yes, vengence may have been part of my motivation, that sick son of a bitch deserved it."

"Calm down, boss." Anders holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I wasn't disagreeing with you or anything. Sweet Andraste, did I finally discover a touchy point of Rahna Tabris?"

I blush. "Yeah. That's a big one. And I almost killed someone who insulted Alistair after he was dead. Those are the only important ones, I think."

"I wouldn't dream of insulting the man you tell us is the true Hero of Ferelden," Anders grins.

I laugh. "How do you manage to make me laugh no matter what?"

He shrugs. "I'm just special like that." He tugs on one of my pigtails, knocking my hand away when I try to retaliate. "Don't you have things to do, _Commander_?"

I stick my tongue out at him. "Yes, I do. See you around."

**oOo**

When I go to get the dragonbone from my room, I remember that I also have some wood from a particularly big sylvan in the Wending Wood. _Wonder if Wade can do anything with that..._ I pick it up as well. No harm in asking. Worst he can say is no.

But he doesn't. He seems almost as excited about the wood-calls it heartwood-as he is about the dragonbone. I grin as his eyes gleam.

"Now, I will need a few other things to make anything out of these, Commander," he admits. "Let me write them down for you..." He hastily scrawls out a two-part list and hands it to me. "Hurry back! I can't wait to get started..."

"In the meantime, while I'm getting these things for you, d'you think you could use some of the ore we've found to start working on better armor for the knights here?" I ask, scanning the list. "Sod, Wade... where'm I supposed to find catgut? And the jewels..." I sigh. "Never mind. I think I know where. Just start working on the armor. Please."

He nods. "Of course, Commander."

I run over the lists again as I walk away. _Maker, this man has some high demands..._

**oOo**

Despite my fears, I actually manage to find almost everything Wade needs with relative ease. Sigrun had hoarded some of the gems we found in the Silverite Mines, though how she got them, I'm not entirely sure. Maybe Anders or Nathaniel gave her some, knowing her love for shiny things. She happily hands over a ruby and a diamond when I explain why I need them.

"All I'm doing is looking at them, Commander. If you can actually use them, be my guest," she grins as she hands over the stones.

"Thanks, Sig."

The cook has some catgut, and I scrounge up the rest fairly easily. The only problem turns out to be the runes. Velanna's good at making potions and poultices, but not at runecrafting. _Guess I'll check with Anders..._ He's not in his room, though, and I have to search almost the whole bloody keep before I find him, talking with Justice in one of the further corners of the courtyard.

"I understand you struggle against your oppression, mage," the spirit is saying.

"I _avoid_ my oppression," Anders clarifies, kneeling to rub Pounce's stomach when the cat rolls over and bats at his feet. "That's not quite the same thing, is it?"

Justice frowns. "Why do you not strike a blow against your oppressors? Ensure they can do this to no one else?"

"Because it sounds difficult?" the mage offers, scooping up his cat and standing.

The frown turns into a scowl as Justice points out, "Apathy is a weakness."

"So is death," Anders retorts. "Just sayin'."

"You have a responsibility to your fellow mages," the spirit argues. "You have seen oppression and are now free. You must act to free those who remain oppressed."  
"Or I could mind my business, in case the Chantry comes knocking, "Anders counters.

Justice looks confused. "But... you have an obligation. This is not right."

Anders scoffs. "Yes, well... welcome to the world, spirit." He notices me watching. "Rahna, did you need something? Please say yes."

I laugh. "Yes, I do. How are you with runecrafting?"

"Well, only Tranquil are true experts," he explains, "But I can do a passable job. What did you need?" He purposefully ignores Justice as he give me his full attention.

I show his the list. "These two."

"Grandmaster?" He sighs. "I can try. Wait a tick." He heads back to the keep. I follow at a much slower, meandering pace. By the time I make it to his room, he's waiting with the two finished runes in hand. "You owe me for this, boss."

"Considering I saved you from a conversation it didn't look like you were enjoying to terribly much, can we call it even?" I suggest hopefully.

"Oh, fine." He grins. "You're lucky I have a weakness for beautiful women."

I chuckle. "Yes, I am. Thanks, Anders." The last things I needed in hand, I head back to Wade.

**oOo**

Wade's always been fastest when given a challenge, so I believe him when he tells me he only needs a few hours for both tasks. The dragonbone's going to become a new sword for me, and the heartwood's going to make a new bow for Nathaniel. I know there's sentimental value to his current bow, with it having been his grandfather's and all, and he can still keep it, but if this bow is better... Well, I just have a feeling things are going to erupt into all kinds of crazy soon, and if he has a better weapon at his disposal, I'll feel much better.

But for now, there's nothing to do but kill time and wait for Wade to be done. I decide to use this delicious bit of free time to just sit and think. Fade finds me as I'm climbing the steps to the now-repaired walls. _Voldrik's been busy_, I think, reaching down to ruffle Fade's ears. "Hey, boy. Decide to finally give Honey a break? You know you need to give her some space."

He pushes his nose against my hand, and I scratch his ears some more.

"I know you're smitten. It's cute. But let her breathe," I chuckle, hardly able to believe I'm giving romantic advice to my sodding _dog_. I mean, I know mabari are smart, but it still seems slightly silly.

We find a good spot and I lean my head back against the battlement and lose myself in thought.

**oOo**

_"You're doing it again, love," Alistair teases, kissing the top of my head._

_"Doing what?" I ask, tilting my head back to raise an eyebrow at him._

_He grins. "That cute thing where you get lost in thought and your eyebrows scrunch up."_

_I try to glare at him, but fail spectacularly. Not that I'm surprised. I can't stay mad at him, ever. "Glad you find my idiosyncrasies so amusing. But back to the task at hand?"_

_"Ooh, all business today." He sobers, as if remembering where we are. "Maker, I'm sorry, Rahna. You're probably totally not in the mood."_

_I give him an appreciative smile, squeezing his hand. "It's alright. And I'm sorry I'm so focused."  
"Don't be." He wraps an arm around my shoulders to pull me close as we walk, ignoring the disapproving noise Morrigan makes. "I know you're worried about your father. I would be, too. I'm just... not used to seeing you this serious. It's weird."_

_Worried as I may be about finding my father, I have to giggle at that. "That's one of the many, many things I love about you," I whisper. "You can __**always**__ make me laugh. And I hope that never, ever changes."_

_He grins again, offering a slight bow. "Your desire is my command, m'lady."_

_I push up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "My hero. Now, let's track down these slavers before we have to follow them all the way back to Tevinter, aye?"_

_"A sound plan," Morrigan mutters behind us, but I ignore the sarcastic bite to the words. "One would think we had all the time in the world."_

_I tune out both her complaints and Wynne's admonition for her to be quiet as I slip my hand back into Alistair's and resume course down the dingy hallway._

**oOo**

I sigh as the memory fades; narrow hallways full of garbage shifting back into the stone battlements of the Vigil, Alistair, Morrigan, and Wynne vanishing like wisps of smoke, leaving me with only Fade, who's snoring away with his head in my lap. Much as I love my dog, this does not seem a very fair trade to me.

A wry smile tugs at my lips as I play with Fade's ears. "A handsome prince for a slobbery dog seem fair to you?" I ask the air.

"Not particularly."

I wasn't expecting an answer; I thought I was alone up here, and getting a reply makes me jump and bang my head against the wall. "Ow!"

"Sorry, Rahna," Anders chuckles apologetically as he sits down next to me. "Allow me." He rests his hand against the back of my head and I feel a small healing spell bleed away the throbbing.

"Thanks." I still rub the formerly sore spot once he drops his hand, more out of habit than necessity. "How come you're always the one to find me up here?"

"We think alike?" he offers with a shrug. "I dunno. I wasn't actually looking for you this time. Just wandering and happened to find you."

"Just wandering, huh?"

"Well, wandering and thinking," he amends.

"About what?" I prop my chin on my hand.

"Well, that statue of Andraste in the courtyard for one," he chuckles.

I shoot him a confused look, still idly petting Fade with my free hand. "What?"

"D'you think she was really that much of a looker? Wouldn't she've been, I dunno, a barbarian?"

I have to laugh at that, the last bits of melancholy from my memory fading away. "What, you expect an icon to be realistic? Really?"

"Well, no. But still... Andraste _did_ exist, right? Wonder what she'd think of the Circle of Magi? Y'know, the whole thing with forcing mages to fight demons or be made Tranquil?"

"I have a feeling it would confuse her," I answer, slightly surprised at the fact I'm actually having a _deep_ conversation with Anders. Usually we stick to the light-hearted and superficial in our conversations. Nathaniel's the one I get serious with, you almost can't help it with that man.

Anders nods. "I'll bet you're right. Seems to me, she counseled men to seek their own paths to the Maker. But the Chantry uses her words to collar us simply for being who we are."

There's a layer of vehement anger under his words. That surprises me; he's always seemed laid back and devil-may-care about the Circle and his escapes. But I know he's right; between him and Jowan, I've heard and seen enough of the templars' opinion about mages. "I couldn't agree more."

He grins. "Sweet of you. She's still quite a looker for a prophet. Just sayin'..."

_A/N: This actually ended up longer than I thought it would be. I was going to end the chapter pretty much right after Rahna's memory, but Anders walked up and wanted more attention, so I worked in another in-game dialogue. =P And speaking of Anders, yes, he's now an arcane warrior(and Velanna's a spirit healer). Which usually happens at the beginning of my games, but I couldn't figure out how to work it in until now. Please tell me I'm not the only one who's enjoyed the lovely side benefit of a certain blond mage looking rather yummy in, say, Effort. *clears throat* Anywayyy, the end draws near. And by this I just mean the final boss fight and much carnage etc. NOT the end of Rahna's story. I fully intend to keep writing her all the way up to her Calling(which I know I will cry writing. I love my girl). Oh, and the chapter title is from _The Return of the King_. My inner nerd showing again... :P_


	52. Drawing Closer

52. Drawing Closer

Zimri was insufferable. Of course, Jowan had known that before they even left Kaiten, but it wasn't even halfway through the first day of travel before he was fervently praying the man would lose his voice. The warrior's attitude toward mages was irritating enough, but the near-constant diatribes against magic in general, blood mages in particular, and Commander Marius' sanity as a side note were made a thousand times worse by his nasally accent.

_Even Sweeney's lectures weren't this bad,_ Jowan grumbled to himself as he tried to tune out the monologues. And at least in the Circle, if a lecture got too long or boring-or both-he could let his mind wander, or doodle in the margins of his spellbook, or if they were truly bored, pass notes with Miri. None of those were options on the road, so he was forced to settle for attempting to ignore Zimri's droning voice.

It wasn't working all that well.

"Tell me something," Jowan finally interrupted, beyond fed up with the man. "If you're so bloody convinced magic is evil, how do you reconcile that with the fact the Maker's the one who gives it to us?"

"The Maker gives many gifts," Zimri retorted, sounding peeved at the interruption. "Some are abused more than others, no?"

"Oh, I know that, believe me," Jowan replied. "But it's what's _done_ with magic that gets defined as 'evil', so is it really fair to say magic in general is evil? I've saved lives as well as taken them with magic," he pointed out, remembering the Crow attack that nearly cost Rahna her life.

Zimri snorted derisively. "A blood mage who doesn't think magic is evil. What a surprise. I suppose, compared to what you must have done, regular magic would seem tame, maleficar."

_Maker, is he __**trying**__ to make me angry, or is he really just that biased?_ Jowan shoved down his rising temper and raked one hand through his hair, stopping just short of wrecking his ponytail. "There isn't much in this life I regret more than turning to blood magic. My reasons at the time were, admittedly, selfish. But, again, I've saved lives with it as well as taken them, so while it may be evil, it may be my absolute last resort, I've come to consider it a_ necessary _evil."

"A necessary evil is still evil," Zimri scoffed.

"Perhaps. But me, Miri, Ashe, and Vincent would all be dead if I didn't know blood magic. I don't like to use it, but I will if I have to."

Zimri muttered under his breath in Orlesian. "Pointless to argue with a mage..."

"Then why are you doing it?" Jowan asked.

The warrior snorted. "You are the one who started arguing, no?"

"Am I supposed to just listen for hours as you run down everything that makes me and my best friend who we are and not say _anything_?" Jowan stared at the other man incredulously when he didn't answer. "Not many people alive who will just take that in stride. And I am not one of them." _Not any more, at least..._ A thought occured to him. "Just so I'm clear, if something happens to attack us on the way to Amaranthine; bandits or wolves or whatever, do you want me to not use magic? Or is this one of those 'necessary evil' things?"

Zimri glared at him. "I don't see how you would have a choice, mage."

Jowan bit back a smirk. "Alright then, a follow-up question: if, theoretically, you were to get hurt, am I allowed to use healing magic? Because I'm decent with spells, but not so great with conventional healing; y'know, bandages, needles and all that."

Zimri looked just shook his head angrily and muttered in Orlesian again before storming ahead.

_At least he's not talking anymore, thank the Maker,_ Jowan reminded himself, grinning behind the warrior's back and practically able to feel the waves of pique rolling off the other man.

Silence really was golden.

**oOo**

Neither of them knew it, but Gabriel was thinking the exact same thing. Syn had been chattering at him for the past two hours, so he practically dropped to his knees to offer a prayer of thanks when the dwarf drifted back to talk to Kiv-again. The Rivaini elf was the only one in their band who didn't seem to mind in the slightest listening to the woman chatter on. It made sense, far as Gabriel was concerned; he could listen to Miri talk for hours on end without complaint, so if Kiv liked Syn, it stood to reason he'd feel the same about her.

But Gabriel was glad for the break. His thoughts drifted-as always-to Miri as he followed Stroud. The closer they got to where she might be, the more he missed her. It was driving him_ crazy_.

"_Merde_!" The curse was out before he could stop it when his thoughts of Miri kept him from noticing the tree root curling lazily across his path. He hit the ground hard, feeling it most in his wrist.

"You alright, my friend?" Aimon asked. "Perhaps you should be paying more attention to your feet, no?"

Kiv laughed. "I know where his mind is, and trust me, Aimon, you wouldn't blame him if you knew her."

Gabriel shot his friend a dirty look as he pushed off the dusty ground, flexing his wrist in hopes it would stop hurting. "Kiv. Shut it."

"Ah, _une fille_." Aimon grinned. "Even without knowing her, I don't blame him. Women can be very distracting, no?"

"You can say that again," Gabriel muttered wryly, brushing dirt off his clothes. "And the sooner I'm back with mine, the better."

**oOo**

Jowan didn't know what he would have done if they'd had to share a cabin. Probably slept on the deck of the ship, cold be damned. Fortunately, they were given separate cabins-at opposite ends of the ship.

_And thank the Maker for that,_ Jowan thought fervently as he deposited his backpack on the floor under the narrow bunk. He had to chuckle as he surveyed the small cabin. _Rahna would go crazy..._ It seemed almost to have been crammed in as an afterthought, squished in the last bit of available free space toward the bow. With her claustrophobia, the elf would have been insane in about five seconds, he was pretty sure. Insane or out on the main deck. The thought of her reminded him of something, and Jowan sat on the edge of the bunk to dig through his pack until he found the new, now-crumpled, letter that had been waiting for him after his last meeting with Commander Marius before leaving for Amaranthine. The sprawling, familiar handwriting left little room for doubt concerning who it was from, but he hadn't had time to read it until now.

"Now all I have to decide is whether privacy or better light is more important..." the mage muttered. Given the dismal state of the lighting in the cabin, he opted to go somewhere with better light. _After all, Miri's the only one who would give me a hard time about this and she's not here. I doubt Zimri will care. _

All the same, he couldn't help but look for a more secluded area of the deck before he broke open the letter's seal and started reading.

**oOo**

_Dear Jowan,_

_ Duly noted. So, remember, if the first thing I do next time I see you is hit you, it's your own fault. I'm sure you know some sort of healing spell just in case I really let you have it, right?_

_ Would you stop rubbing that in? It's not like I asked to be made Commander and arlessa and all this bloody lovely political nonsense. And I was sodding proud of myself about holding it together. I had to do it again, too; there was some sort of legal ceremony and I had to pass judgment on some people. The nobles didn't seem too happy with having to abide by the word of an elf, but nothing bad's come of it so far._

_ Good thing you don't share my claustrophobia then, huh? If I had to spend a couple weeks in the Deep Roads again, I'd probably scream. I still shudder just thinking about the time I spent down there looking for Branka during the Blight._

_ My darkspawn problems are turning out to be more sodding complicated than I would wish on my worst enemy. For one thing, it seems there's two... factions of darkspawn, for lack of a better term. And if that weren't weird enough, some of them __**talk**__. And the one-its followers call it the Architect-took us prisoner when we were investigating a mine. Before you start to panic or anything, I'm fine. We're all fine. It didn't really do anything to us, besides take all our gear and lock us up in a cell. Which proves that, while it may be more intelligent than your average darkspawn, it's no genius. Anything with half a brain would have made sure to not put me and Nathaniel in the same cell. _

_ Unless it wanted us to escape. But now I'm rambling and probably confusing you(sorry about that), and should probably just throw this out and start over, but I'm low on ink and don't feel like finding more right now. So I'll just trust that you know me well enough by now to take a little rambling in stride._

_ Stay safe in the Deep Roads. I've lost enough to the darkspawn without adding to the list. _

_ Your friend,_

_ Rahna_

**oOo**

Jowan leaned his head against the barrels surrounding him and bit back a laugh. Everything about the letter, from the sprawling handwriting to tone in which she'd written it was so genuinely _Rahna_ it made him smile-and miss her more. _Just be patient,_ he reminded himself,_ it's only a couple more days._

Funny how that thought made the prospect of _enduring_ Zimri that long a whole lot more bearable.

**oOo**

"So, tell me something, boss," Syn began after they'd finished eating, pausing to lick the last of the grease off her fingers, "How'd you get to be friends with Rahna? I haven't been topside very long, and all you hear about is how she saved Ferelden from the Blight. Did you know her before all that?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I don't think there's a Warden alive who knew her before she was recruited, or even before she became famous." He chuckled. "She doesn't particularly care for the spotlight, either. But to answer your question, I met her in Weisshaupt. You remember I told you why Miri was going to be executed before I recruited her, no?"

"She was helpin' her best friend escape or somethin' and it came out he was a blood mage, right?" the dwarf cocked an eyebrow.

"Right." Gabriel nodded. "Well, through circumstances that are twisted enough I _still _don't entirely understand, Rahna not only ended up traveling with him, she _recruited_ him. So when she came to Weisshaupt to inform the First Warden that the darkspawn were still a problem in Ferelden, she brought Jowan-Miri's friend-along so he could go through the Joining. They ran into Miri while exploring and spent the entire day catching up with her. They were still talking when I went looking for Mir that evening, so that's how we met."

"Ah. And what, you just hit it off?" This came from Aimon as the warrior leaned back against the tree behind him.

Gabriel had to laugh at that, running his hand through his hair and trying to ignore the way the movement made his wrist twinge. "I... wouldn't say that, no." He cleared his throat. "When I asked for introductions, Miri of course had to explain how she knew Jowan. Considering he almost got her killed, I was... less than thrilled to see him there. Miri wouldn't let me do anything to him, though." He chuckled sheepishly. "I don't think I've ever gotten a tongue lashing in my life to compare with that one. And apparently, Rahna had come to consider Jowan a friend as well, so _she_ was less than thrilled with, well, _me_."

"So... what happened?"

"Miri made me promise not to do anything to Jowan, Rahna apologized for her attitude the next day, and when Jowan and Miri were sent to the Free Marches, she and I took out our mutual frustration about that on each other in the dueling ring."

"You've dueled her?" Syn grinned. "How'd _that_ go?"

Gabriel shrugged. "How d'you think? She's a bloody hero, no? She won. Did say I almost had her at a couple points, but she still won. When she was assigned command of Amaranthine and I was sent back to Jader, we traveled together as far as we could. We talked a lot that trip. Traded stories of how we joined the Wardens, things like that."

"Ah. So you forge all your friendships through getting your arse kicked?" Kiv teased.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Not all of them. Just the important ones. And I will beat you one day."

"Sure you will. When Andraste returns and the Maker returns His favor to us pitiful mortals," the other elf retorted with a cheeky grin. Syn smacked the back of his head. "Ow! What's that for?"

"Be nice to the boss, dear heart," she smirked. "He _is_ the one who'll have the most pull in deciding where we end up, and you want us to be together, don't you?"

"Yes, but Gabriel's tough, he can take a little ribbing," Kiv muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"That's true, Syn. And I've been friends with this ruffian long enough I know when he's just teasing," Gabriel pointed out.

Kiv offered the best mock bow he could, still seated with one hand rubbing his head. "Thank you, ser."

Gabriel smirked as he glanced up at the sky. "Alright, who's first watch tonight?"

"That would be me," Aimon volunteered.

"Then the rest of us get to clean up." Gabriel's smirk only grew at the groans he received for that pronouncement. "Come on, we'll want to finish before dark, no?"

_A/N: So, yes... moving everyone closer to Amaranthine. And having way too much fun in the process. I'm so proud of how much Jowan's grown it's almost ridiculous. I'm serious. When Rahna first ran into him, I don't think he would have had the guts to take Zimri to task like that. Speaking of Zimri... Maker, do I ever hate him. I loathe him, abhor him, can hardly stand writing him(yes, that's why he hardly talks). Unfortunately, he is 100% necessary to some plotiness I have planned for down the road, so he must stay. *sulk* Oh, well. I got to write Gabriel and Kiv and Syn(who I'm starting to adore as well). And I could say the reason I didn't mention Rahna writing back to Jowan's last letter is 'cause I don't record everything she does, but the truth is I plain forgot and am too lazy to go back and find somewhere to mention it. Ooh, before I forget: Translations! These are courtesy of Google, as my french is rusty beyond belief: _

_Merde= (*clears throat*) Crap_

_une fille= a girl _


	53. Complicating Matters

53. Complicating Matters

Amaranthine was bigger than he expected. It was nowhere near the size of the cities in Orlais, of course, but from the size of the Fereldan villages they'd passed so far, Gabriel had to admit he hadn't been expecting the chief city of the arling to be so large. "Alright, I suppose we should go into the city, find out how far it is to the Warden base, figure out if we need to buy more food, things like that."

"Where's the tavern?" Kiv asked. "To hear if there's any gossip we should know," he protested when Gabriel shot him a dirty look. "You never know, there might be a werewolf problem, or a bandit infestation we need to be aware of before we strike out from the city."

"Good point," Gabriel conceded. "We should check that out, I suppose."

"I'll handle that," Kiv offered. "A lone elf in leather armor is more likely to hear things of interest than a troop of Wardens all in gleaming plate." He gestured at the armor the rest of them wore.

"Another good point," Gabriel admitted. "Syn, you follow and keep an eye on him."

Her lips curved in a grin. "I think I can manage that."

"The rest of us will wait in the chantry." He figured while they were there, he could talk to the Revered Mother, maybe get some information about how the Wardens were perceived in this city. Not everywhere loved them like Jader.

**oOo**

Jowan took an almost perverse level of enjoyment from the fact that, while he didn't suffer the slightest bit of seasickness, Zimri was not so lucky. He found himself wishing it would take more than two days to cross the channel, as the former templar was feeling too poorly to leave his cabin.

The respite from constant lectures was wonderful. And he _tried_ to help. Zimri was proud enough he'd absolutely refused any kind of relief that carried the least hint of magic. Before he'd left the Circle, Jowan would have been surprised at the stubborn preference to suffer rather than admit the good that could come from magic. But what he'd seen, both before and after he joined with Rahna and Zevran, had shown him that pride and paranoia could make a person do the damnedest things. So he'd thrown up his hands in surrender and retreated to the main deck, muttering under his breath about the other Warden's stubbornness.

"Don't take it so hard," the first mate, Ceera, chuckled when she overheard him. "If he's too proud to accept help, it's no one's fault but his own."

Jowan snorted. "No, I'm sure he'll find some way to make it my fault once we're back on land. I've never met anyone so absolutely convinced that any and all magic is either evil or at the very least disagreeable."

She laughed at that, the wind whipping loose strands of honey blonde hair across her face. "His loss. I'd grant there's greater potential for abuse, but I'm not gonna condemn the many for the sins of a few."

"Thank you for that. Dealing with constant suspicion gets tiring after a while."

"Trust me, I know," Ceera replied dryly, tugged on the double pierced lobe of one ear. "Even if the ears don't give me away, being a half-elven sailor 'wench' doesn't exactly inspire people to trust me easily."

"I don't imagine it does," Jowan mumbled. "Doesn't bother me," he added hastily so she wouldn't get the wrong idea, "but from what I've seen, there are still plenty of people who think elves are little better than animals." She raised an eyebrow at that, so he explained, "Both of my best friends are elves."

"Ah, that does explain a lot." Ceera nodded, as if watching puzzle pieces slide into place.

"Like what?" Jowan asked, leaning against the railing.

"The fact you're actually talking _to_ me rather than _at_ me, for one," she replied with another chuckle. "That you might know a bit more about what elves endure than the average human. These friends of yours... they mages, too?"

"One is. The other's a rogue."

"I feel sorry for the one who is... if people won't be suspicious about the ears, they will be about the magic."

Jowan shrugged. "She's managed so far. But I know it was harder for her in the Circle than it was for me. Sharing the burden, gift, curse, whatever you want to call it, of magic doesn't erase other differences like some think."

"She, huh?" Ceera grinned.

Jowan shook his head. "Just friends. She's like a sister to me. And she's head over heels for a warrior she met during the Blight."

"What about this rogue friend of yours?"

"What about her?" He didn't know why he felt so defensive all of a sudden, and that bothered him.

Ceera's grin widened. "Is _she_ head over heels for someone?"

"She's still nursing a broken heart from losing the love of her life," he deflected. "What's with all the questions, anyway? You interrogate all the passengers like this?"

"Just the ones who seem like they have somethin' interesting to talk about," she riposted. "And I figured a mage Warden who prefers regular clothes to robes and has as many scars as you do hasta be interesting."

Jowan fought down the urge to shove down his sleeves. He'd forgotten he'd rolled them up, leaving the evidence of what he was in plain view all over his arms. But he was tired of hiding, and Ceera seemed remarkably unjudgmental. "Well, thank you for that. But I should probably let you get back to work, shouldn't I?"

She nodded, her teal eyes twinkling. "Aye, y'probably should. The wind's picking up, and I'll be needing to bark orders soon."

**oOo**

Kiv was only in the tavern a half hour before he and Syn joined the others in the chantry, smelling every so slightly of ale, but not acting the least bit tipsy. "We need to head for Vigil's Keep, about three or four days steady walking along the Pilgrim's Path, if you wanna visit your friends. The barkeep says that's where the Wardens are stationed. And said Wardens have already killed just about every potential threat in the area, so aside from darkspawn, the roads are perfectly safe to travel."

Gabriel chuckled as he pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against. "Considering Rahna's in charge, I can't say I'm surprised. The Revered Mother was also full of only praise for Wardens. For all her worries, I think Rahna's managing the role of commander just fine."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Syn asked, adjusting her ponytail and rolling her shoulders. "This armor's sodding heavy."

"Do we have time for this?" Aimon spoke up. "I know you have friends you wish to visit, Gabriel, but round trip we're talking an extra week to get us on a ship for Kaiten, and aren't we needed there?"

"He has a point," Stroud agreed. "We were told to go to the Free Marches. Do you not think it would be better to follow our orders?"

"Normally I would agree with you," Gabriel replied. "But the Revered Mother told me there are whispers and worries that the darkspawn are getting more bold here. We should at least offer assistance to our fellow Wardens, no? If they do not need us, then we will resume our journey for Kaiten."

The others all nodded assent, and they were off.

**oOo**

They docked in Amaranthine with no trouble, and Jowan found himself once again forced into Zimri's company. Upon inquiry, the harbormaster told them how to get to Vigil's Keep, and they started through the city. Zimri was unusually quiet, still recovering from his seasickness.

Jowan couldn't help but chuckle as he mentally compared the sturdy stone buildings that made up Amaranthine to the grand, soaring manors that lined the streets of Kaiten. "Fereldan to the bone," he muttered to himself, feeling far more comfortable here than he had there.

"What was that, mage?" Zimri demanded.

"Nothing. Just thinking about how I'm more at home here than I ever was amidst all that grand Orlesian architecture in Kaiten. Come on, according to the harbormaster, it's a few days' journey out to the Vigil."

Zimri fell in step with the mage, muttering under his breath about uncouth Fereldans and their lack of appreciation for fine things, nearly knocking over a scrawny boy who stumbled into his path. The boy shook his head dazedly and darted off. He'd barely taken two steps before Zimri clapped a hand to his belt and swore in Orlesian._ "Que les petit voleur!"_ Any trace of residual unsteadiness vanished as the warrior pursued the pickpocket.

Jowan swallowed a laugh and rolled his eyes as he followed. Maybe the days in company with the former templar had made him paranoid, or maybe it was just the cynicism he'd picked up after escaping the Circle, but he wasn't entirely sure Zimri wouldn't accuse him of _something_ if they got separated.

Fortunately for the two of them, the pickpocket didn't get far before he ran smack into an armor-clad elf. A very familiar, _redheaded,_ armor-clad elf.

**oOo**

Gabriel was fairly certain his own expression was a mirror of the blatant surprise on the mage's face as he blinked at Jowan, only managing to grab the pickpocket's arm by sheer luck. "What're you doing here?"

"It's good to see you, too," Jowan replied dryly.

Gabriel cursed himself for an idiot. "No, that's not what I meant." He tightened his grip on the thief's arm as the boy try to squirm free. "I thought you were in the Free Marches, no?" A wild, crazy though sprang to mind. "Did Miri-"

"No," Jowan shook his head before the elf had even finished speaking. "She's still in Kaiten." Gabriel pointedly ignored the small chuckle Kiv emitted at that. "The commander refused to let both of us come, and since Miri's the better mage, and I know Rahna better, we figured I should come and she should stay." He frowned in confusion. "Not to sound rude, but what're _you_ doing here?"

"Apparently the First Warden wants a stronger presence in the Free Marches," Gabriel explained, relinquishing his grasp on the pickpocket as the dark-haired warrior accompanying Jowan grabbed the boy's other arm. "We were on our way there, and I figured we could stop by the Warden base here so I-" Syn cleared her throat. "Sorry, so _we_ could visit some old friends. But if we're all going to same place, let's get underway and we can handle introductions as we walk, no?"

And they did, trading introductions before Gabriel thought to ask what brought Jowan and Zimri to Amaranthine.

**oOo**

It was a struggle to not feel the bite of the panic that still squirmed in his chest as Jowan explained to Gabriel what he and the others had heard and seen in the Deep Roads below Kaiten. From the look the elven warrior gave him, Jowan had a feeling he wasn't entirely successful at hiding it, either.

"So, there are darkspawn _tunneling_ into Ferelden from the Marches? What could be so urgent they do not just follow them around under Nevarra and Orlais?" Gabriel frowned. "I don't like this."

Jowan snorted. "Neither do I. Why d'you think I'm here?"

"Point," Gabriel conceded, raking his fingers through his hair. "Though I'm sure part of it was wanting to see Rahna."

Jowan shrugged. "I'm not going to deny that, if that's what you're expecting. She's one of the only friends I have, and I miss 're the one detouring completely out of your way to visit."

"Another point," Gabriel laughed. "But I'm visiting _two_ friends, and the Warden who recruited Syn is here as well. It is well worth the detour, no?"

"I'm not arguing with that," Jowan smiled, tugging on his ponytail. "Considering what I've been putting up with and considering worth it to get to visit Rahna. Zimri's a former templar who thinks all magic is evil," he explained when Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

"Ah. Well, never fear, my friend. I am quite sure he will learn to keep those objections to himself around Rahna, no?"

Jowan smirked. "Oh, she'll make sure he does. And Maker forgive me, I hope I'm there to see it."

**oOo**

It was the second day of their journey to the keep that things soured. The weather turned first cloudy, than rainy, quickly rendering all of them soaked. Things were further complicated when they stumbled, quite by accident, upon scavengers picking clean the remnants of a crashed supply ship, her crew long-since gone. Whether rescued or dead, Gabriel didn't know, but he wasn't inclined to let scum like this profit.

In hindsight, he should probably have consulted with the others-the shared look with Kiv before the rogue melted into the gloom didn't count-before charging in as he did. He heard Aimon and the new warrior, Zimri, curse as they followed him. _Not everyone enjoys fighting in the rain, Gabriel, you idiot,_ he chastised himself as he ducked under the lead scavenger's blade, distracting the man long enough for Kiv to plant a dagger in his ribs before the two of them turned to help with the rest of the gang.

To complicate matters even further, Gabriel belatedly realized this gang had a mage. It wasn't quite the problem it would normally have been; they had Jowan, after all, but it was still an annoyance. Stroud and Aimon's armor iced over, slowing their movements, and the mage took advantage of the one moment Kiv wasn't enveloped in shadow to paralyze the rogue. It was when he tried to catch Syn with a matching spell that things swung in their favor.

While it slowed her down a bit, her inbred resistance to magic kept the spell from having its full effect, and the dwarf was soon close enough that the swing of her sword nearly cut the mage in two at the waist. While she handled the mage, Gabriel, Zimri, and Jowan finished off the last few. The spells hampering the others faded, and they took the time to clean their weapons and catch their breath before pressing on.

**oOo**

The best part about traveling with the larger group was that Zimri apparently didn't feel a need to monologue about the dangers of magic when there were others present. It made the last day of the journey to the Vigil much more bearable. In fact, aside from a small comment muttered under his breath about Jowan's use of magic against the scavengers-which everyone else dismissed as petty and foolish-the warrior hadn't talked much at all.

"How did you stand traveling alone with him?" Syn asked in a low tone as they broke camp what would hopefully be the last day of travel. "Listening to him make me want to rip my hair out."

"Honestly? Knowing I'd get to see one of my best friends at the end of the road helped more than anything else." Jowan shrugged. "And I didn't just take it when he pressed too far."

Syn snorted. "She must mean an awful lot to you, if you're willing to endure _that_ for her."

"She does," Jowan admitted. "Not in any romantic sense, but..." he sighed. "If it wasn't for her, I'd probably be dead by now. I owe her a lot, and warning her about what the darkspawn are doing is the least I can do."

The explanation seemed to satisfy the dwarf, and it was true, every word of it.

But that didn't explain the tight anticipation that settled in his gut when they came within sight of the Warden fortress.

_A/N: And so Gabriel and Jowan monopolize my attention for another week. Next chapter's gonna be from Rahna's point of view; I wouldn't miss writing this reunion from her side for the world. I realized a couple paragraphs into the last chapter that I haven't had Rahna handle the salvage operation quest, and since she's about to be too busy to worry about petty scavengers, I tweaked the location of the cove to be betweeen Amaranthine City and the Vigil and had these guys handle it. :) I must admit, heaping abuse on Zimri is unbelievably fun. :) Oh, man, I'm looking forward to writing the rest of this story... _

_Oh, yeah... __Que les petit voleur=That little thief_


	54. Reunion

54. Reunion

I don't know how I get myself into these situations. I really don't. The sentiment could easily be applied to over a dozen scrapes I've found myself in over the course of the past couple years, but I'm currently applying it to the game of Diamondback that Anders and I are losing _badly_. If I'd known Sigrun was this good when she suggested the game as a way to relax, I would have told her no.

"Good grief, Sig, I thought you said the Legion spent most of their time fighting and dying, not playing cards," I grumble as she wins another hand.

She giggles. "We did, but we had to do _something_ in between. A deck of cards is small and easy to carry."

"And what's _your_ excuse?" I ask Nathaniel, raising an eyebrow at him. He's the only one of us who's anywhere close to being as good as Sigrun.

He shrugs. "Diamondback is even more popular than Wicked Grace in the Free Marches. I got plenty of practice, though I am a little rusty."

I stare at him in disbelief. "_This_ is a little rusty? I hate you so much right now."

He chuckles as Sigrun looks at the cards the rest of us laid down. He knows I don't mean it.

"Alright, Anders, you're the low hand again. You know what that means," she grins at him.

Since I balked at the idea of actually playing with money or possessions, Sigrun and Anders came up with alternate rules. Whoever finishes with the lowest hand has to take a swig from the bottle of ale sitting in the middle of the table or answer any question the winner wants to ask them. Not as high-risk maybe, but that's the best they're getting out of me. And with how horrible we are, Anders is well on his way to being smashed, and Sigrun's found out more about me than even Leliana or Zevran knew.

Anders looks askance at the bottle. "'M not drinkin' this time," he mutters, pressing the heel of one hand-which is glowing faintly-to his forehead.

_Headache_, I guess as I watch Sigrun shrug.

"Fine," she replies breezily, gathering and shuffling the cards. She bites her lip in thought for a moment. "Okay, here's one I don't think I've asked yet," she smirks. "What's your biggest fear?"

He smirks right back at her as he takes the cards she passes him. "Finding out all of this is just a lovely dream and I'm actually chained in a templar prison in nothing but my smallclothes."

"Wow," I laugh. "And here I was thinking it would involve running out of food or something like that." I fight the urge to wince when I get a look at my hand. These may be the worst cards I've gotten yet.

"That's a close second," he teases. "But I know you think I'm too fun for you to ever stop feeding me."

"Ah ha," I laugh. "So your plan comes to light."

"Yep. You found me out," he confesses cheerily. "Though, while we're on the topic, Rahna, I am rather curious what would be your biggest fear."

"The thought of feeding you, of course," I shoot back with an impish grin. "You eat more than any other Warden I've ever seen."

"Commander, you wound me," he retorts playfully. "Seriously, though. I really am curious."

I bite my lip. "You be serious first, and I'll tell you."

He glances at his cards and sighs. "Fine. This hand's so horrible, Sigrun'll just win again and ask me, anyway. Losing my freedom."

I think back to our conversation outside Amaranthine what seems years ago and have to admit that makes sense. "You know the Chantry can't touch you here," I remind him.

He snorts. "Didn't stop Rylock. And how many other templars are there who would feel entitled to ignore that little fact? But it's your turn, Rahna. Biggest fear?"

"Alright, alright." I sigh and rake my hand through my hair. "Either my claustrophobia or losing someone else I care about. I've lost enough friends and loved ones. I really don't want to lose any more."

"Oh, sod," Sigrun mutters.

"What?" I look up at her as the dwarf bites her bottom lip in consternation.

She shakes her head. "Nothin'. Let's keep playing."

I let it go, and we continue playing, things somber for only a few more minutes before Sigrun and Anders are joking and laughing and everything's back to normal. Or, at least as normal as it gets around here.

After losing a few more hands and spilling a few more secrets, I beg off. "I need to go find Fade. I haven't seen him in hours, and bored mabari can cause all sorts of trouble."

"Rahna, could you look for Honey while you're at it?" Nathaniel asks as I push away from the table.

"Sure. Knowing them, they're probably together anyway," I chuckle. "But if they aren't, I'll look for her, too." I'm gone before any of them can notice that that's not my _real_ reason for begging off.

**oOo**

"So, where were they?"

I grin up at Nathaniel as I scratch the pair of mabari heads resting in my lap. "Under the stairs up to the wall, chewing on a pair of soup bones I'm fairly certain they liberated without the cook's permission."

He chuckles, crouching to scratch between Honey's ears. "Why am I not surprised?" Honey gives a contented groan and abandons me to roll over at his feet and beg for a belly rub. Nathaniel obliges.

"You're such a softie when it comes to that dog," I tease.

He shrugs. "I could say the same." He nods toward Fade, who's still chewing on one of the bones.

"Got me there," I confess, laughing as I pull the bone away from my dog and throw it. He gives a happy bark and chases after it. Honey join him. _This could be interesting..._

"Something bothering you, Commander?" Nathaniel asks, sitting next to me on the bottom step.

I crack my knuckles and hedge, "Why d'you ask?"

He shrugs. "You just... seem rather quiet, especially for you."

"Thanks for that."

"You aren't a very quiet person usually, Rahna," he points out. "So, when you are, I find myself wondering what's bothering you."

I give him a wry smile. "Very perceptive of you." I sigh and stare after the dogs. "I... sort of lied to Anders."

"Oh?" I can tell he's raised an eyebrow without even looking.

"About my biggest fear," I elaborate, playing with the amulet around my neck. "I am horribly claustrophobic, and I am terrified of losing another friend, but neither of those is what scares me the most in this life."

"What does, then?" he asks quietly.

"Forgetting." I feel my throat tighten off just that one word, as the memory of too many nights floods my mind. "I'm terrified beyond description that one day... I won't remember him any more."

"Him- Alistair?"

I nod, swallowing hard. "It's already starting. I dream about him sometimes, sure. But as soon as I wake up, it's like he fades and I can't remember what his smile looked like, or envision the way his eyes would light up when I said something to make him laugh." I stare at my hands. "Maker, I miss his laugh." I look up at Nathaniel. "But you probably don't want to listen to me carry on about that..."

He smiles slightly. "I do have a sister, remember, Rahna. It's hardly the first time I've served as a listening ear."

I have to chuckle at that. "Thanks, Nate."

His smile widens. "My pleasure."

One of the sentries descends the stairs, denying me a chance at a reply. "Beg pardon, Commander, but there's a group of travelers approachin'."

I sigh and slip back into the mindset of Commander of the Grey. _If that's Anora again, we're going to be having words._ "Can you tell who they are?"

"Liam swears they're Wardens; a couple of 'em have griffon emblems on their armor."

I raise an eyebrow as I scramble to my feet. "You disagree?"

He shrugs. "He has better eyesight than I do, Commander, so's I don't like t' argue with him. But I've never heard of Wardens allowin' civilians to travel with them."

My eyebrow arches higher. "Civilians?"

"Most of 'em are in armor, but there's one man who ain't," he explains.

My heart skips a beat. _No sodding way,_ I tell myself. "How... how close are they?"

"Not far. You can see 'em plain as day from the wall-"

I'm charging up the stairs before he can finish his sentence, both the bewildered sentry and Nathaniel following me. _It can't be, Rahna. Don't get your hopes up. Just don't._ When I reach the top of the wall, I lean forward to see if I can recognize any of them. Most I don't; a few humans and a dwarf, but the two elves I certainly do. I've never met another elven Warden with hair the same shade of red as Gabriel's, and there's no mistaking Kiv's swagger-like stride.

But my excitement at seeing the two of them pales in comparison to the surge of unadulterated, near-speechless joy that flares through me when I recognize the dark-haired man the sentry thought was a civilian. "Oh, sweet Bride of the Maker!" _It __**is**__ him! _I lean so far over the parapet to make sure my eyes aren't fooling me, I would probably have fallen if Nathaniel didn't grab the back of my shirt.

"Careful, Rahna," he chuckles, once I'm balanced again. "I take it you know them?"

"Do I ever!" I snort, grinning and swallowing the very un-Commander-like squeal building in my throat only with a supreme effort before tearing off down the stairs to greet our new arrivals.

**oOo**

The gate's open, but the Wardens haven't quite reached it yet by the time I make it down the stairs, so I don't stop running until I reach Jowan, tackling him in what may be the most enthusiastic hug I've ever given anyone in my entire life. "Maker's_ breath_, I've missed you!"

"And here you were wondering how she'd react. I'd say she's pretty happy, no?" Gabriel laughs. "If I get half that reaction out of Miri, I will be a happy man."

Jowan shoots him a dirty look as he hugs me back. "Shut it, Gabriel. And I missed you, too, Rahna."

Kiv is laughing almost as hard as Gabriel as he offers me a hand up. "Come on, _Commander_."

"Thank you." I know I'm grinning like an idiot as I accept his help, and then turn to offer my hand to Jowan once I'm up. Maker help me, I don't bloody care. I've missed Jowan more than I can really properly put into words, and now he's _here_. I feel the scar across his palm rub against my skin as he takes my hand and I help him up-and hug him again. Both of us are covered in dust from the road, but I'm having trouble caring about anything other than the fact he's here. "Sweet Andraste, Jowan, I can't even... Oh, I'm so happy to see you!"

"The feeling's mutual," he chuckles, wrapping one arm around my shoulders to return my enthusuastic hug.

"Do we get hellos like that?" Gabriel teases, motioning between himself and Kiv.

I let go of Jowan to give them each a hug as well. "Sorry."

"No, don't apologize," Kiv smirks. "I won five silvers off that hello." He grins at Gabriel, who rolls his eyes in response.

"I'll pay up once we're settled," he promises. "It's good to see you again, Rahna."

"Likewise." I may be happiest about seeing Jowan, but I've also missed Gabriel and Kiv. "Can I get introductions?" I ask, nodding toward the armor-clad men and the grinning dwarf. Gabriel nods, and introduces me to all of them in quick succession as we finish the little bit of the walk left to the Vigil's courtyard.

Nathaniel's waiting for me there, and I introduce them to him, explaining, "The rest are inside, we just happened to be out here when the sentries saw you coming."

"The keep looks like it has been attacked recently," one of the new men, Aimon, comments.

I sigh. I'd wanted to wait a bit longer before I had to tell them about that. Mostly to figure out how to tell Gabriel about Keenan. "It was," I admit. "Just before I got here. We've spent the last couple months repairing things."

"What happened?" This question comes from Syn, who I like from the second Gabriel introduced her. She looks worried.

"I... We're not entirely sure, to be honest," I confess. "We have a ... gnarly darkspawn problem around here; they're more..." I sigh again, searching for the right word. "Sentient, I guess. Some of them even talk. From what I can tell, they came for the Wardens stationed here."

"And did they get them?" Gabriel's frowning as he asks.

I nod. "They're all dead." _I can explain about Kristoff and Justice later..._ "I'm sorry."

"Was there one here named Anton, do you know?" Syn asks.

"I don't. They were... the darkspawn had dragged them all off by the time I got here. Again, I'm sorry." This is the part of this job that I hate the most.

"Then how do you know they're dead?" demands the nasally-voiced warrior Gabriel introduced as Zimri. I already _dis_like him as much as I like Syn.

I swallow hard and bite my lip, looking at Gabriel as I explain. "We were... investigating a mine in the woods and I... found Keenan. He was badly wounded, dying. I tried to save him, but he was beyond the help of even magic. Before he died, he told me the rest were all dead."

"Does his wife know?" Gabriel asks, his voice rough.

I fight down the wave of anger at the though of Nida. "Yes. She knows. Now happy as I am to see you, I have to ask: What're you doing here?" I look up at Jowan. "Especially you. I thought the whole reason you were in the Free Marches was because that garrison needed mages."

"They did," he replies, running one hand through his hair. "But we found something in the Deep Roads that was... disturbing to say the least. And the commander thought you needed to know about it."

I frown. "Me? Why me?"

He sighs, pulling on his ponytail as he begins, "The darkspawn were digging these tunnels..."

_A/N: Oh, Maker, I've been waiting so long to write that reunion scene! *giggle* I had this huge goofy grin on my face the whole time I was working on it. That is totally theway Rahna would greet a really good friend that she's been missing for a long time. Not 100% happy with the bit at the beginning, the card game, but I've stared at it and tried to rewrite multiple times, and just can't get anything better, so I guess it stays for now..._

_Now I just need Zevran back, and the original crew will all be together. XD _


	55. Catching Up

55. Catching Up

Jowan's news is serious enough to sober me up a bit, though I am still happy to see him. I'm having enough trouble with the darkspawn already here, I really don't need to be worrying about _more_.

"How far along were they?" I ask, trying to figure out how far they would have to dig before they could get here from the Free Marches. I remember enough about geography to know that Kaiten sits right across the narrowest part of the channel from Amaranthine, so it makes sense they would dig near there.

Jowan shrugs and bites his lip. "They'd made a fair bit of progress, but they weren't anywhere near done, not when I left, anyway. And Vincent and Ashe were working on some way to at least slow them down, if not stop them completely."

"Okay... so there's a little bit of breathing room, if not a lot." I sigh and run my hand through my hair. It's just tied back in a halfhearted ponytail, since I wasn't planning on going anywhere today. "I really wish we knew where the darkspawn leaders are hiding..."

"Leaders... plural?" Gabriel frowns.

I nod. "Oh, yes. That's part of what so wonderful about my situation here. There are two different groups of darkspawn to worry about. There's the Architect, which looks like an emissary, but... different somehow, and the Mother. And I have no idea what she looks like, because I've never seen her."

"But the Architect's the one that... caught you, when you were investigating the mine?"

I shoot Jowan a wry smile. "You got my letter?"

He nods. "Didn't get a chance to read it until I was on the way here, but, yes. I got it." He smiles at me. "And I didn't panic at the thought of it taking you prisoner."

I just raise an eyebrow at him. _Why don't I believe you?_

"Oh, fine, maybe a little bit," he admits.

I chuckle. _That I can believe..._ "But, as you can see, I'm absolutely _fine_. No lasting damage."

"So there was some damage?" He's actually _teasing_ me, which makes me grin.

"I took an arrow to the shoulder and got a few bruises while we were escaping. But like I said, no lasting damage. Anders and Nate took care of me."

"Anders?" This time Jowan's raising an eyebrow at me. "Blond, rebellious, slightly warped sense of humor?"

I laugh. "Sounds about right. I don't know why it never occurred to me that you two would've known each other..."

"Known might be an over-statement," Jowan mutters, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I know who he is-pretty sure the reverse is true, too-because Miri used to help him cause trouble before she decided to be teacher's pet and was left with me as her ony friend, but we hardly ever even talked."

"How come?"

"He's a _much_ better mage than I am, for starters," he points out. "You have to have noticed that, if he's been around awhile."

"Actually, it's been long enough since you and I fought together, I didn't even think to make the comparison," I confess. I dart a glance at Gabriel and the others. "But, since we're getting off topic... we can catch up later. Now that I know why Jowan's here, I'm curious about the rest of you."

"I was traveling with the mage, since it is dangerous to trust them alone," Zimri replies before Gabriel can so much as open his mouth.

_Maker, I knows he's a fellow Warden, but can I hit him? Please? _"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to_ Gabriel_. And I'll thank you to keep any anti-mage commentary to yourself, Warden."

He sniffs. "Templar training does not vanish overnight, el- _Commander_."

_You, ser, are sodding lucky you caught yourself. _My hand curls into a fist that I force myself to undo. "I know that. But I've worked-_extensively_-with a Warden who had templar training before. If he managed to put aside that bias, I'm sure you can do the same." I smile sweetly at him. "Can't you?"

He mutters in Orlesian, but backs off. "As you... wish, Commander."

"So, Gabriel, getting back to my question; what're you doing here? I thought they needed you in Jader to work with new recruits."

"They did. But the First Warden decided he wants more Wardens in the Free Marches, and we're the lucky ones who get to go." He grins, and I know he really does feel lucky, since this means he may get to be stationed the same place as Miri again.

"Alright, then, but what are you doing _here_? I know there are a couple ports closer to Jader than Amaranthine."

He shrugs. "I don't like boats, for one thing. And I figured this was a perfect excuse to leave from Amaranthine and get a chance to visit some old friends, no?" His grin fades.

"I really am sorry about Keenan, Gabriel." I rest an apologetic hand on his arm. "I did everything I could."

"I know you must've. You never seemed the type to use half measures." He sighs. "But what's done is done, no? And all Wardens face the chance of dying." He nods toward Syn, who's lost in an animated and apparently lighthearted conversation with Kiv. "The Warden who recruited her, Anton, he was supposed to be here as well. I know she was looking forward to seeing him; getting a chance to talk."

"I wish I'd been able to save at least some of them... this whole thing would have been easier with a few more to help," I admit. "But I wound up with two new recruits right from the start, and gained three more a few weeks later, so I'm already doing better than I was when it was me and Alistair against the Blight."

Gabriel chuckles. "I suppose if you managed to defeat a Blight with just two Wardens, anything more seems an extravagance, no?"

"Hey, extravagance isn't all bad," I shoot back. "More help, and being able to follow more than one lead at a time, would have been nice."

"I don't doubt it. But you seem to have managed, despite your doubts." He winks at me, and I whack his arm.

"Oh, hush. And I'll have you know I _did_ have to deal with an uprising, but I think it was more because I killed the former arl than because I'm an elf."

"You killed the former arl?"

"During the Blight. He was one of Loghain's toadies, and was holding the queen hostage. After we defeated the archdemon, Anora granted Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens, so we would have someplace a little more accessible that Soldier's Peak to use as a base," I explain.

"I see. Well, if we have all the strategy talk out of the way for now, I could really use some sleep."

I nod. "I think that's everything for now." Even if it's not, I want to catch up with Jowan more than I want to talk strategy. "If you go down that corridor-" I point down one of the hallways off the throne room "-all the room on the left hand side are empty. Take your pick."

"Ooh, there's choices?" he jokes.

"Yep. Arl Howe apparently had a large garrison that he wanted within calling distance at all times, so they were stationed inside. I personally think it's because the man was afraid of being assassinated." I stop when I realize Gabriel's looking at me funny. "What?"

"Howe? Like Nathaniel?"

I roll my eyes, wondering if there will ever come a point when we _don't_ have to explain things to people. "Yes. The arl was Nathaniel's father. But trust me on this, they have absolutely nothing in common beyond the surname. He's one of my best friends, and I trust him with my life."

"No need to get defensive, Rahna. I was just curious," Gabriel chuckles.

"Sorry. I'm used to people thinking I'm bloody insane for recruiting a Howe and giving me all kinds of grief for it, so I tend to overreact," I mutter sheepishly. "I didn't mean to bite your head off. I'll, um, let you pick a room and get some sleep."

"Thanks, Rahna." Gabriel heads down the hallway, not going very far before he seems to have made up his mind and nudges open a door, disappearing inside the room with one hand already loosening the buckles on his armor.

**oOo**

Jowan's smiling at me when I look back at him. "What?" I demand, crossing my arms.

"You and this habit of trusting people most others would just kill. Part of me can't help but wonder how long it's going to take for you to recruit someone who actually _is _a bad apple."

I roll my eyes. "There you go, being all pessimistic again," I tease. "Am I ever gonna break you of that habit?"

"Probably around the same time you stop getting lost," he shoots back, grinning.

I sigh. "Point. But c'mon, now that the boring stuff's out of the way, I wanna talk to you."

"About what?"

"Anything," I reply with a wry laugh. "What you were doing in Kaiten, what I've been doin' here, Miri, darkspawn, I don't care. I've just missed having you around to talk to."

"I already told you what I was doing in Kaiten," he reminds me as we head back outside. "In the letters."

"You seriously spent _all_ your time in the Deep Roads?" I raise an eyebrow and shudder. "Maker, someone must've hated you..."

Jowan laughs. "No, we were just the low team on the chain, so we got the job no one else wanted, and it turned out to be more important and time-consuming than we originally thought it would be. Got to spend a lot of time talking with Miri, at least."

"Oh? What'd you talk about? If you don't mind tellin' me," I amend. _Maker, I'm nosy sometimes..._

He shrugs. "Lots of different things. The Circle, Gabriel, you, blood magic..." A wry smile pulls at one side of his mouth. "Miri spent a lot of time harping on me to change back to wearing mage robes, now that I'm a Warden and don't have to hide anymore."

"And? Will you?" I keep my voice neutral, but I'm really, really curious about this.

He shakes his head. "I don' t think so. I mean, the idea of enchantments that help with mana regeneration or offer protection is tempting, but I'm too used to dressing like this now. I like being able to blend in." He shrugs. "I guess that's just a holdover from all the time I spent on the run. Besides, these clothes are comfortable, and I can get a shirt or tunic enchanted just as easily as a robe." He smirks. "Plus, it's sort of a matter of pride now. Miri can't be right."

I laugh. "That a really good reason, ser mage."

"What, you want me to switch to robes, too?" he teases.

"Maker, no! It would be really weird, for one thing. I've only ever seen you in regular clothes." I try to picture him in mage robes, even ones like Anders was wearing when I met him, and just _can't_. "And if these work for you, why change?"

He nods. "That's exactly what I think. We just... there was one fight we had against the darkspawn that... came rather close to ending badly. Miri started bugging me about wearing robes more after that. She pointed out that things wouldn't have gotten so bad if I had robes with some kind of mana regeneration enchantment."

"Doesn't your staff already do that?" I point out.

"More never hurts," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as we reach the top of the wall steps.

"True," I concede. "But, still... like you said, shirts can be enchanted as easily as robes." I sit down so my legs dangle over the courtyard, and tug Jowan down to sit next to me. "How's Miri doing, by the way. With being apart from Gabriel and all?"

Jowan shrugs. "I know it bothers her. And she missed him something terrible on the way out there. But she doesn't talk about her feelings much any more." He chuckles, but the sound is almost sad. Wistful. "That's one way she's changed since the Circle. She used to share her opinion on everything under the sun. Now... she teases me, and we talk seriously sometimes, but she's... not as open as she was." He sighs, runs one hand through his hair. "I hate thinking that that's probably my fault."

"And _I_ hate that you seem to be the only one who either won't or can't forgive you for... that," I mutter.

"Not true. I'm pretty sure Lily probably still hates me, wherever she is," he returns.

"Okay, I have to give you that one," I concede. "But if you don't know where she is, it's not like you can go apologize." _I can't believe we're talking about this now..._ He sighs. "I know... and it's been almost two years, and I should probably let it go. You think I haven't argued with myself about this before?"

"Sorry. And how'd we get on such a weighty topic in the first place?" I frown.

"Talking about Miri, I think," he reminds me.

"Right." I nod, biting my lip. "Well... since this is the one thing I'm dying to know... what's the deal with Zimri? Why's he here?"

"Partially because he feels mages can't ever be left up to their own devices or they become abominations or power-hungry maniacs," Jowan replies with a wry smile. "And partially because someone somewhere figured you needed more Wardens here. Commander Marius figured we could kill two birds with one stone if he and I traveled together."

I grin. "I'll bet that was fun."

He snorts. "Loads. Especially since I'd forgotten to roll down my sleeves the first time we met, so he knows I've used blood magic. I think that made him hate me extra. He wouldn't even refer to me or Miri by name; just called us _mage_."

I feel something like anger start welling in my chest. "I already don't like him."

"He'd occasionally branch out into calling me_ maleficar _or_ blood mage_. I don't think he'll ever stop, either."

I glare in the direction of the keep. "He ever actually tries anything, I'll kill him. I don't care if he is a fellow Warden; _you_ are quite possibly my best friend in the whole of Thedas."

"What about Zev?" Jowan chuckles, giving my ponytail a gentle tug.

"I said 'quite possibly'," I retort, grinning. "Can't you both be my best friends? And how long have you been waiting to pull my hair?"

"Ages. I've been wondering why you an' Mir always do it to me. Now I see. It's fun," he teases.

"Oh, you..." I giggle as I sock him in the shoulder and then reach back to retaliate, giving his ponytail a quick tug. "Maker, I've missed having you around."

"You've said that already," Jowan laughs, rubbing his arm.

I wrinkle my nose at him. "Well, it's true, so I'm sayin' it again."

We sit on the wall and talk for Maker only knows how long, our legs swinging over the mostly-empty courtyard.

It seems so perfect, part of me can't help but wonder how long it'll be before something goes wrong.

_A/N: Maker, I love writing those two together. I really do. And sorry there's not a lot of plot here. My plan is to have the action pick back up at some point during the next chapter. And some things are going to be different about the whole save Amaranthine vs the Vigil thing, since I have all these extra Wardens at my disposal. You'll see. =)_


	56. The Plunge

56. The Plunge

I can't say I'm surprised when Sigrun and Syn hit it off almost immediately upon being introduced. It's hard enough to be a female Warden, feeling vaguely outnumbered by all the men, I know it's even harder for the dwarves, since so few of them join. They're busy defending themselves from the darkspawn, so I can't really blame them for not wanting to let an able-bodied warrior go. And as I watch Syn and Sigrun play with Pounce, teasing him with a piece of string and making the cat whirl in circles, I can't help but notice that 'able-bodied warrior' is exactly what Syn is. Of course, considering she was toting a greatsword when they arrived, I'm hardly surprised that she's _strong_, but I am surprised she's _here_ rather than in Orzammar defending her people. My curious nature is going crazy wondering her story.

The only person I _haven't_ introduced to our new arrivals is Anders, and that's because I can't bloody find him. So I decide to ask Sigrun, since she's the last person to have seen him, far as I know. And she _is_ playing with his cat.

"Hey, Sig, where's Anders?"

She shrugs, pulling the string away from Pounce as the cat leaps at it. "I think he went to sleep off his headache, Commander."

"Oh, right. He lose a lot after I left?"

She nods, grinning at me. "Every hand. You should've stuck around. Drunk mages are funny."

I chuckle. "I can imagine."

Sigrun laughs. "His words were all slurred, and when I finally took pity on him and told him to go sleep it off-since thinking straight is apparently a requirement of summoning healing spells-he couldn't walk straight to save his life."

I feel bad about giggling, but the image is too funny to do otherwise. "Wow."

Sigrun bites her lip and hands the string to Syn. "Here, you keep playing with him. I need to talk to the commander."

I raise an eyebrow at how serious she's gotten. "What's up, Sig?"

She shakes her head. "Not out here, Commander. This is private." We retreat down the hallway to have some privacy. Sigrun's nervously twisting her hands together, cracking her knuckles, and generally acting very strangely. As soon as we're out of earshot of the throne room, she looks up at me. "First, Commander, I need to thank you for letting me join the Wardens... for showing me the surface. But I hope you don't think I've abandoned the Legion."

"Of course, not, Sig," I assure her. "I know you haven't abandoned the Legion. Where's this comin' from?"

She sighs, and begins explaining. "In Dust Town, my word meant nothing to anyone. Then I joined the Legion and took a vow to defend Orzammar. That's worth something. For once,_ I'm _worth something. And I must honor that. Even if it mean I'll die."

"That's not going to happen for a long time." _I hope. _

"That's what worries me, Commander," she replies. "In the Legion, death looms over us constantly, like... like a dirty uncle. Here, death seems distant. When the surface is safe, I'm going back to the Deep Roads. For a Warden's last walk. For my... my Calling."

"But... it's not your time yet." Everything in me absolutely loathes the idea of losing the perky dwarf who's become an incredibly dear friend since she joined the Wardens. "We need you."

"I think you can manage," she contradicts. "And besides, you can't make this choice for me, Commander. Each Warden decides when she is ready, doesn't she? In the Legion... I never accepted my sentence. Raging against it only caused me pain. Now that I've been granted a reprive, now that I have a choice, I know what I must do."

"We've both lost friends, Sigrun. I don't want to lose another one."

She swallows hard, eyes gleaming with determination."I'm touched, but I've made up my mind. Don't worry, you're not losing me just yet. The darkspawn still threaten the surface, and that is my first concern."

"Is that... is this why you looked upset earlier when I said I was afraid of losing any more friends?"

She nods. "I know you've lost a lot, Commander. And I hate the thought of hurting one of the few friends I have, but I have to go. I just... wanted to tell you."

"Considering you could have just waited and snuck off, I appreciate it." I sigh. "And I'll miss you."

She smiles, but it's slightly wobbly. "Likewise, Commander." She heads back out to rejoin Syn and Pounce, and I turn to rest my forehead against the wall, pounding the wood softly with one fist as I struggle silently against the sharp prick of tears behind my eyes.

_Not another one. Sweet Maker... I don't wanna lose another one. Haven't I lost enough people who matter to me?_ I pull in a shaky breath, trying desperately to keep my composure.

"Rahna? What's wrong?" Anders' question startles me and I jump slightly before turning to face him.

"Oh, um... nothing, really," I mumble, blinking rapidly and hoping the dimly lit hallway hids my almost-tears from the mage.

He shakes his head. "Don't believe you, boss. Something's wrong, and far be it from me to leave a damsel in distress."

I roll my eyes. "I seem to remember threatening to make your life less than pleasant if you ever called me a damsel in distress again."

"No, no, your exact phrasing was that the result wouldn't be pretty," he corrects with a grin.

I giggle. "Well, I'll forgive you, but just this once."

Anders grabs my arm as I go to leave. "Rahna, seriously. What's wrong? Any way I can help?"

I shake my head. _Damn stubborn mage..._ "Sigrun just told me that soon as we're done saving the surface from darkspawn she's leaving for her Calling. I've just..." I sigh and rake my hand through my hair. "Sod, Anders, I've lost so much already. I don't wanna lose another friend."

"C'mere." He pulls me forward into a hug. "It's Sigrun's choice, isn't it? And you had to know this came with the life."

"I know, I know," I mutter. "But even the thought of it still hurts." I pull back and give him a grateful smile. "And at least I'll always have you to cheer me up."

He returns my smile, tapping the end of my nose with one finger. "That's the plan, boss." Both of us look out toward the throne room when we hear Sigrun and Syn laugh. "We have visitors, Rahna?"

"Oh, yeah. A whole group of 'em arrived while you were sleepin' off your horrible luck at Diamondback," I tease. "They're Wardens, too."

"That'll come in handy..." Anders mumbles.

"Whaddya mean?"

"The darkspawn dreams... they've been getting worse for me," he explains. "I figured that only happens if the darkspawn are getting stronger or moving or something."

"It usually does," I nod. "Mine got worse toward the end of the Blight. And, um, Anders?"

"Yes, Rahna?"

I don't really know any way other than bluntly to tell him. "One of the new arrivals you know already."

He raises an eyebrow. "Do tell. Another mage?"

I nod. "Mm-hm. Jowan."

"Jo-How the sod..." He lets the question trail off unasked and just looks at me and laughs instead. "Never mind. Knowing you, I'm actually not that surprised. So, did you have to snatch him right out from under the templars' noses, too?"

I roll my eyes at him. "No! He wound up traveling with me and Zevran after the Blight, and, well... I got in over my head fighting a group of darkspawn, Jowan saved my neck, and I offered him a place in the Grey Wardens. Took him a while to make up his mind, but he did eventually accept, had his Joining once we got to Weisshaupt. What?"

"I'm just trying to figure out why you would recruit a blood mage, since I know you hate blood magic as much as I do," he mutters.

"Because he gave it up," I explain. "Saw it as the main cause of him ruining his life and nearly getting his best friend killed, and hadn't used it since when he started traveling with me."

"Ah. That does make sense. And I promise to play nice."

I chuckle. "Thanks for that. You're both really good friends and I'd hate to hafta take sides." _Even if I already know whose side I'd most likely take..._ "How well did you two know each other anyway?"

"Not very. I mean, it's impossible to live long in the tower and not at least know the other mages, but we didn't see each other much. One of those friend of a friend things, 'cause of Miri," he explains. "Didn't you ask him?"

I shake my head. "Didn't get a chance. We had to talk strategy, since apparently the reason he's here is that the darkspawn in the Free Marches wanna come help the Mother."

"What?"

I laugh at his lost look. "Anders, haven't you learned by now _nothing_ is ever easy when I'm involved?"

"You have a point there." He chuckles and runs on hand through his hair before gathering it back in his usual ponytail. "Well, I suppose we should get the potentially awkward meeting of old not-quite-friends over with, yes?"

I have to laugh again. "Let's."

**oOo**

Fortunately, it's not as awkward as Anders hinted it might be; a cautious nod of greeting and a few moments of silence before Anders asks about Miri. The introduction of a conversational topic they both know completely shatters what tension there was and they start trading stories.

I can't help but chuckle as I watch. _Wonder what Miri would do if she knew they were talkin' about her like that..._ Probably something along the same as what I would do; namely, sock them both in the arm and maybe give their ponytails a yank for good measure. I giggle at the image before I join Sigrun and Syn in playing with Pounce, dropping to sit cross-legged between the two dwarves. Pounce jumps at my boot, sinking his claws into the leather as I laugh at him.

"You, ser kitty, are very lucky I decided not to go barefoot today." I roll him over on his back to scratch under his chin. He bats at my hand for a minute before letting out a loud purr of contentment and going limp.

"Who knew cats had the same sweet spot as dogs, yeah?" Syn chuckles. At the sound of her voice, Pounce is back on his feet in an instant, jumping on the piece of thread hanging loosely from her hand. "Whoa! You're a tricky one, you are!" She drags the string away, the cat chasing every inch of the way.

**oOo**

Aimon's the first one to notice the approaching messenger. Being the loner type, who prefers only himself for company, apparently, he's out walking the walls when the frantically running man on the road appears.

I'm deep in conversation with Kiv, trying to squeeze a few more hints about that shadow-y ability he taught me out of him, when the dark haired warrior leads in the panting messenger, who looks like he's about ready to collapse.

"C-Commander... need to... talk to you..." the blond man gasps out.

Considering he looks like he ran all the way from the city, this must be pretty damned serious. "I'm listening." I can't help but notice I'm not the only one; all the other Wardens in the throne room, as well as Garevel and Varel are listening, too.

"The... darkspawn. They've... fielded armies, Commander." He pulls away from Aimon and braces himself against one of the support posts. "The nobles want to know how you'll protect them." Sigrun appears as if out of nowhere and hands him a mug of water. "Thank you." He downs half of it in one long gulp, and takes a moment to catch his breath. "Whole villages have fallen to them, Commander. And now they're marching on Amaranthine itself."

"Some of the Vigil's soldiers are still posted there," Garevel points out. "It won't fall easily."

"But is will fall," the messenger protests. "You didn't see the size of this army, ser. There's no way the soldiers can hold out forever against it."

Varel frowns. "Our forces could never move quickly enough to get there in time." He looks over at me. "But a small band might."

"That would be suicide," the blond gasps.

"We must try," Garevel retorts.

"And that would be me?" I chuckle. "It's never dull around here."

Varel laughs. "Unless your Warden recruiter promised you quiet rural contemplation, you knew what you were signing up for, Commander."

"This is true," I grin.

Sigrun's eyes light up. "Fighting a horde of darskspawn with almost certain death awaiting? Don't even think of leaving me here, Commander!"

I can feel all of them looking at me as Varel asks, "Who do you want to take with you?"

_Yes, which of my friends do I want to drag along on a suicide mission with me?_ "I won't deny Sigrun's request. She's with me." The dwarf grins and bolts off toward her room to get her armor and weapons.

Varel and I both chuckle as we watch her go. "Who else, Commander?"

"Anders." I need to have at least one mage with me, and he's better at healing than either Jowan or Velanna. "You're coming with me, too."

He sighs dramatically. "And here I thought I'd retire to the countryside with a plump wife and several nubile mistresses. I suppose that'll have to wait." Jowan and I both roll our eyes. _He never changes._

"Anyone else?" Varel inquires.

I nod. "I'm not going after a darkspawn army with just two people, Seneschal. Anders, can you go track down Nathaniel? I want him with us."

"Sure, Rahna." He heads off to find the archer.

I scan the small group of Wardens left in the room. "Stroud, you're with me as well." The warrior has an air about him that makes me think he's a skilled fighter and would be useful to have along. _Five's a good group. The rest stay here._

"Of course, Commander." He bows, and goes to retrieve his sword.

"The rest of you stay here. If the darkspawn are attacking the city, they might come here, too."

"As you command." Varel nods. "Maker protect you and hold you close, Commander."

"And you as well, Seneschal," I return, mind already buzzing. I have final preparations to make.

_A/N: And here we go... Part of me is wondering if I'm insane for adding Stroud to the mix(I already have trouble not forgetting people in combat without adding to the group), but I need him along, for plotiness. Along similar lines, I need Jowan and Gabriel at the Vigil for plot reason. You'll see. The next few(several?) chapters are gonna be fun to write... =D Combatcombatcombat *love*_


	57. Worry

57. Worry

"Hey, Commander, what's this I hear about you runnin' off t' save the city from darkspawn?"

I skid to a halt at Oghren's question, mostly because he sound stone-sober, which is a rare enough thing to warrant attention. "There were darkspawn sighted near the city. Enough to be described as an army. So we're dealing with it."

"And you ain't bringin' me along?" he grumbles.

I shoot him a teasing grin. "Hey, someone has to protect the Vigil's ale if the darkspawn come here as well. I figured you'd be the man for the job."

He laughs. "I like the way you think, Commander. Just leave a few darkspawn skulls for me to kick it, aye?"

I chuckle. "I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises."

"Good enough fer me," he grins. "You watch yourself out there."

"Are you worrying about me?" I raise an eyebrow. "Awful sentimental of you, Oghren."

"Ahh, I just need ya to vouch fer me with the nugget, Commander, remember?" he shoots back, trying to wave me off.

"Oh, right. Of course," I giggle, pretending I believe him. "You make sure you're still here for me to vouch for, y'hear me?"

"I'll try my best, boss. You get going. I need to get good and drunk for this."

Anyone else would find that strange; most people fight worse drunk, but I know the opposite is true for Oghren. He fights his best when he's nearly falling over drunk and boiling over with rage. So I just nod and chuckle as I continue on my way to my room.

**oOo**

I've gotten really good at putting on my armor without help. It's a simple thing, but one that serves as a daily reminder that, unlike during the Blight, I don't have anyone to help me. Alistair used to help me with the straps that are harder to reach, but now I've learned how to fasten all of them myself. I sigh heavily as I meet my reflection's eyes in the mirror to tie back my hair. _Just one more thing I've adjusted to because I had to..._ It helps that the set I found while adventuring with Zev and Jowan has fewer buckles in general and all of them are fairly easy to reach.

"So you're leaving me here with a fortress full of shems?"

I roll my eyes at the sharp question. _Don't bother knocking or anything, Velanna... _"Yes, I am. I need to bring a small team with me to be able to move fast enough to do any good, and Anders is a better healer than you or Jowan."

She snorts. "I imagine there are a great number of mages better than Jowan at a great number of things."

I try not to bristle, mostly because Jowan's told me himself-multiple times-that there are plenty of mages better than him at just about everything, but her derisive tone makes that impossible. "That was uncalled for. And, Velanna, speaking ill of the people I consider my friends is a fast way to get yourself beaten senseless." _**Especially**__ him._

"Apologies, _Commander_," she mutters. "I suppose I'm a bit unsettled by the fact you're leaving me here surrounded by _humans_."

"Not true. Syn's not human. Neither are Gabriel and Kiv. Or Oghren," I point out. "And all of them are staying here."

She makes a face. "Knowing that_ that dwarf_ will be here as well is hardly reassuring."

I laugh. "I'll try to make sure he keeps away from you. I need to finish getting ready, so if there's nothing else..."

She huffs and leaves, obviously still less than thrilled with the distribution of Wardens. I can't really bring myself to care, not after her comment about Jowan. I gather the last few things I need from my room and head out. I need to make sure Anders found Nathaniel, go over a few last things with Varel, and ask Nathaniel if he thinks we should bring the dogs. I have a feeling Fade won't go unless Honey does, but since we don't know if she's anything more than a pet, Nathaniel may want to leave her here.

_So much to do..._ I much preferred the ability to just get up and go that I had when I was just a Warden.

"Rahna, I found Nathaniel," Anders informs me as we pass in the hall. "He went to get ready, in case you need to find him."

"Thanks," I nod. "Are you going to try wearing armor for this?"

He shrugs. "It would probably be a good idea..." he admits. "Since we don't know what we're going up against."

"And I did dig out a suit of armor no one was using for you to have," I add, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. "Not a very heavy set, but after that pride demon... Well, I'd feel better if you wore it," I admit.

"Then wear it I shall," he teases, giving one of my pigtails a slight tug. "But you're not allowed to laugh at me or anything."

"Would I do that?" I giggle.

"Yes. Varel's waiting for you in the throne room, though, so you should probably go talk to him. Finalize plans and all that Commander-type stuff."

I roll my eyes at him as I push away from the wall. "Go."

"Aye, aye, Commander." He's laughing as he disappears toward his room.

**oOo**

Things with Varel don't take long; the man knows what he's doing. Further proof he's an excellent choice for seneschal. "There is one thing, Commander..."

"What?" I brush a loose wisp of hair out of my eyes and look at him expectantly.

"I know you're trying to keep your group small for the sake of speed, but I think it would be wise for you to take Garevel along with you. He can see to leading the soldiers stationed in the city and leave you and the Wardens free to do what you do best."

"If he can be ready to go right when we are." I fight the urge to sigh, because it is a good idea. I lead best when there's someone else to worry about organizing regular soldiers so I can focus on "righteous Grey Warden-ing" as that templar put it ages ago. But I'm also chafing at every little delay.

"I believe he's preparing as we speak," Varel nods, understanding my haste.

"Good." I nod. "Hopefully all this will be for nothing because the darkspawn will focus on the city..."

"Unfortunately we can't rely on hopefullys, Commander," Varel chuckles wryly.

I make a face. "I know. That's why I'm leaving you two mages, one of the best rogues I know, and a handful of warriors. I work well with Anders, Sig, and Nate, so we should do fine. I'm just bringing Stroud to play it safe."

"A wise choice. Maker be with you."

"And you, seneschal."

**oOo**

I run into Nathaniel just as he's leaving his room when I go looking for him.

"I need to talk to you." We both say the words at the same time.

I chuckle. "You first."

"Very well." He rolls his shoulder to get his quiver to settle right as we start walking back out towards the throne room where the others are waiting. "Why are you bringing me?"

I snort a laugh. "Aside from the fact I bring you sodding _everywhere_ and I trust you to watch my back? For one thing, your sister's in that city. If it were me, I'd want to be sure she was alive and alright. For another, can you think of a better way to start redeeming your family's name?"

He shakes his head, slight smile pulling at his lips. "No. You know, I had moments where I wondered if I was utterly mad for asking to join and you were utterly mad for letting me, but redemption..." He pauses, lets the word hang on the air for a second. "A man could die for that with a clear conscience."

"You better not die!" I protest, shooting him a dirty look.

"Rahna, Anders told me what we're doing. The odds. Do you honestly believe all of us will survive?"

"As a matter of fact, I do, ser cynic," I shoot back. "The odds are nowhere near as horrible as the Battle of Denerim, and the only casualty I had there was..." I clear my throat as it starts to constrict. "Necessary. We knew going in that at least one Warden was going to die." _I just didn't think I'd lose him... _"We have more Wardens and are fighting fewer darkspawn from the sound of things. So, yes, I do think we can _**all**_ survive." I grin at him. "You have to, at least. Delilah and Vi would probably kill me if anything were to happen to you."

He chuckles. "From the amount of time you two spent together, I imagine I could say the same about Jowan if anything happens to _you_."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "I have to concede the point, but that's the sort of remark I'd expect from Sigrun, not you, Nate."

"I have eyes, Commander," he replies simply.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I bristle. _ Not you, too..._

"Just that it's very easy to notice the two of you are very good friends and he would undoubtedly be upset if anything were to happen to you."

"Ah." I relax. "I'd have to agree with you."

"And what did you need to talk to me about?" Nathaniel asks as we near the end of the hallway.

"D'you think we should leave the dogs here or bring them with us? I have a feeling Fade won't budge from this place without Honey. But if she's not really trained as a wardog, that would be a really bad move."

He's quiet for a minute as he thinks this through. "I think we should leave them here, Commander. Even if Honey is trained as a war dog, she's been dragging a little the last couple days, so I don't think it would be wise to bring her."

I nod. "Alright. If we need extra help, we can just call up a pair of wolves, anyway."

"Very true," he nods as we reach the throne room. All the Wardens are there, and everyone else who's going is ready and waiting, even Anders, who's still rolling his shoulders in an attempt to get used to the silver armor he's wearing. The set isn't plate or anything; just heavier-slightly fancier-chainmail I found in the mountains above Haven when we were looking for the Urn. Oghren had brought it with him as a spare set, but I've found so many better sets between Kal'Hirol and other places in Amaranthine, he doesn't need it anymore. I have to admit, it looks good on Anders.

"Everybody all set?" I ask. "For the Wardens who are staying here, Gabriel's in charge." I glance over at where he and Kiv are leaning against the room's support columns in time to catch his nod. I know he's a good leader; comfortable with being in charge and more than capable of thinking on his feet. A cold nose nudges against my hand as I turn back, and I look down at Fade. "You're staying here, boy. You keep this place safe, hear me?"

He perks up at that, letting out a string of happy barks as he knocks me over and bathes my face in dog slobber.

"_Fade!_ Stop that!" I can't help but giggle as I shove the mabari off me. "Go find your girlfriend or something. I need to leave."

Jowan helps me up, and I offer him a hurried and distracted thank you as I start toward the door. But he hasn't let go of my wrist and tugs me back toward him. "Rahna."

"Hmm?" I look up at him, and the second our eyes meet I can tell he's already worrying. I sigh. "Jowan..."

"Be careful."

A half dozen snappy comebacks fly through my mind in an instant; smart remarks that would be aimed at making him smile, good-natured ribbing about this habit of his. But I don't say any of them. I just offer him a reassuring smile and nod. "Promise. Long as you are, too."

Some of the concern fades from his eyes and a lopsided grin tugs at his lips as he nods. "When am I not?"

"An excellent point," I concede, reaching back to give his ponytail one last playful tug before we leave, gently slipping my wrist free as I do. "See you after."

"Right. After." He bites his lip, still looking worried, but I know there isn't really any force in Thedas that can _stop_ him from worrying.

"Come on, let's go." I motion to my group, and we're off.

**oOo**

We push ourselves hard the first day. Not knowing the size of this army of darkspawn threatening the city, I don't want to take any chances. And I can tell Nathaniel's worried about Delilah-and probably Vi-without him saying a word. It's written all over his relentless pace, the stormy look darkening his pale blue eyes, the way he can't seem to sit still when we stop to rest. Considering he normally can sit for _hours_ without moving a muscle, should the need arise, I know he's worried. And this is the type of worry that's fast approaching pure _dread_. I've felt that before.

I find myself praying, selfish as it may be, that if no one else in the bloody city survives, at least Delilah does. _She's all he has left of his family,_ I point out to the heavens when we finally stop to make camp. _You wouldn't take __**her**__ from him, too, would you?_ The tightening knot in my stomach is _not_ reassuring. I try to tell myself it's just nerves as I watch Sigrun divvy up the dried meat that's serving as supper tonight, since we don't want to bother with a fire and our only decent cook is too sodding distracted.

"I'm sure she's fine," I comment as I sit next to Nathaniel, trying to at least lessen the stormy air about him a _little_ bit.

"You can't know that, Rahna," he mutters.

"You're right, I can't. But I can hope for the best." I flick a stray wisp of hair out of my eyes.

"Doesn't that just make it worse when you're wrong?" he asks, eyes on his hands.

"Oh, and having your pessimism turn out to be right makes you feel better?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

He lets out a short, wry chuckle. "I suppose not." He shakes his head. "But don't you ever get tired of hoping for the best only to find the worst?"

"It... can be hard," I admit, remembering those first few days after Fort Drakon, when I was coming to grips with the fact my sunshine-and-roses plans for me and Alistair would never happen. "But it's not worth just giving up."

"I'm not giving up," he protests. "I'm just trying to be ready for the worst... should it turn out to be true."

_How very, cynically practical of you..._ "Well then, I'll just handle the optimism. Fair warning; I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' if she's alive."

Nathaniel's lips twitch with the faintest ghost of a smile. "Warning noted, Commander."

Despite my optimism, the fact I can hear the darkspawn more loudly and the dreams are worse than usual does worry me just a little. It means there's probably a lot of them.

And when Anders wakes up screaming not even an hour after finishing his watch and going to bed, I start to worry a _lot_. The dreams have been worse for him than anyone else I've known, ever since his Joining, but never this bad. Nathaniel's restlessness infects the rest of us, and we break camp to push for the city before the rosy glow of a sunrise tints the sky. It still takes us all day to reach our goal.

I can't help but curse when we come within sight of Amaranthine, even if the curse is just a whisper. "Maker damn it all..."

They're _everywhere._

_A/N: Okay, finally to the city. All those conversations Rahna wound up having before they managed to leave the Vigil nearly killed me, but the muses were feeling talkative, and I realized I'd been neglecting Oghren and Velanna, so I wanted to give them each one more scene with Rahna. Just in case... y'know. Now I just have to keep the Miri-muse at bay so I'm not cutting away at a suspenseful plot point. :)_


	58. Told You So

58. Told You So

There isn't really time to think. My swords are half drawn by the time I realize I'm charging toward the darkspawn clustering on the outskirts of the city, Sigrun and Stroud both just a few steps behind me. I throw myself at the nearest hurlock, both blades slicing an X pattern across its chest. I wait a beat to make sure it's really dead before running at the Childer grub behind it. The bug-like darkspawn convulses, purple threads of lightning running over its body as Anders beats me to the kill.

_Hate it when he steals my kills like that... _I can't help but smirk as I pick a new target, all the same. What am I supposed to tell him to do, not kill darkspawn? I hear a squeal to my right and wheel in that direction just in time to watch Stroud pull his greatsword of a genlock's corpse and let it fall.

A genlock alpha joins the fight, charging in across a ruined field. Sigrun and I team up on it, leaving the rest of the darkspawn to the men. I can't help but flinch as an arrow buzzes past my ear and buries itself in a hurlock's throat.

Sigrun laughs as she parries the alpha's first strike and slices open the bend of its elbow. "I think Nathaniel's pissed enough to take 'em all himself, Commander."

I snort in reply, ducking under a wild swing of the genlock's mace. "I'd have to agree with you on that, Sig." I use one sword to hold back the alpha's weapon hand while I drive the other blade, new and sharp and light, just like I asked Wade to make it, into the vulnerable spot under the creature's arm. It lets out a weak squawk before stumbling to its knees. Sigrun finishes it off by removing its head.

A quick scan of the area shows a complete and utter lack of living darkspawn. "Everyone alright?" The others all nod.

"No lasting damage done, Rahna," Anders teases. "What now?"

_Right, next move?_ I'm trying to figure the best way to handle this when a small group of peasants approach me.

"Please, Grey Warden, save my family!" one elderly man implores. "My family's still in the city!"

Constable Aiden rests a restraining hand on the man's arm, motioning for him to settle down. "Please, calm yourselves while I speak to the Warden-Commander." The elderly man reluctantly nods and backs away, and Aiden turns to face me, offering hasty bow in greeting before he speaks. "Warden-Commander, I'm glad you arrived when you did, but I fear there is little that can be done now."

I sense Nathaniel stiffen behind me, and I pray to the Maker Aiden doesn't mean what I think he does. "Explain. What happened?" I demand.

"A couple nights ago, a swarm of... of gruesome _**creatures**_ emerged from beneath the city," he tells me, shuddering in distaste at the memory. "They spread pestilence and destroyed everything they touched. Then, at dawn, the other darkspawn attacked." He sighs, looking pained as he concludes, "Warden-Commander, it's too late. Amaranthine is lost."

_No. I refuse to believe that. It can't be._ "Snap out of it, man! People must still live!"

He shakes his head, and I find myself fighting a growing sense of sick dread. "The buildings might remain, Commander, but there will be few survivors so long after _**those creatures**_ appeared. Their corruption is so virulent... at least a quarter of the city succumbed within the first day."

I know he's probably right; I've seen what darkspawn corruption can do to people, how fast even an average darkspawn's taint can eat away at someone. _The odds just keep getting longer and longer... but a few survivors are still worth it. I'm not giving up on this city. _Before I can vocalize my disagreement, however, one of the sentries points behind us and calls out that there's a lone darkspawn approach. I turn to see, and feel my fingers twitch when I see that this darkspawn is clad in the same armor as the one that led the attack on the Vigil just before I arrived.

"Archers, take him down!" Aiden orders, and I hear the creak of bowstrings as the two nearest militia prepare to obey their leader.

"Peace! Peace! Do not be killing!" the creature calls out as it draws closer. "Only talk!"

_Sod it all, I will __**never**__ get used to hearing those things __**talk**_, I grumble to myself as I motion for the archers to stand down. "What d'you want?"

"Architect has a message, for Grey Warden," it replies.

"What message?" I hear the rattle of armor behind me as Anders and Sigrun shift uneasily.

"The Mother's army, it marches on Vigil's Keep. She attacks now, while Wardens are gone! The Architect, he sends me to warn you! You must save the keep, then finish the Mother in her lair!"

This is almost too much for me to process. "The Vigil is under attack?" It's my turn to feel my spine go rigid as my heart seems to catch in my throat. _Jowan. Gabriel. Miri'll sodding __**kill**__ me if anything happens to them..._ This thought is immediately followed by a wry and self-deprecating reminder Miri's not the only one who will be out for blood if anything happens to Jowan. I would probably scare people, with how I'd tear through the darkspawn. And all this races through my mind in little more time than the space of a breath.

The darkspawn in front of us nods. "The Grey Wardens are valuable to the Architect," it elaborates. "The Mother, she knows this."

"If we leave now, we may be able to make it back to the Vigil in time to save it," Garevel suggests.

"And what about the darkspawn here?" Aiden points out, waving a hand toward the city.

"Soon, they will go to Vigil's Keep as well," the darkspawn answers. "The Mother, she wants the keep destroyed utterly."

Garevel grunts in disgust as he concedes, "The... _darkspawn_ has a point, Commander. We cannot leave with this other army hot on our heels. The constable says the city is lost. I say we destroy it. Burn it, and all the darkspawn within."

"But... what about the people?" Sigrun bursts out, casting a glance back at the city as we hear a faint scream echo out, as if to punctuate her question. "We can't give up on them, Commander!"

"I'm not giving up on Amaranthine," I assure her.

"Warden-Commander, we have already lost Amaranthine," Garevel counters. "We can't lose the Vigil as well."

"There may be people in the city. _Civilians_, Garevel." I shake my head. "I _won't_ abandon them." _Even if it costs me more than I ever wanted to lose again... Maker, please, protect the Vigil. And... and my friends. Andraste as my witness, I __**can't**__ lose any more..._ "We stay."

"Commander, we can't save the city if it's already lost," Nathaniel argues. "We _can_ still save the Vigil."

At first, I can hardly believe I'm hearing this from the only one of us with _family_ in the bloody city, but then I remember his comment on the way here-_"I'm just trying to be ready for the worst... should it turn out to be true."_-and just sigh. _Maker damn that cynical streak of yours, Nathaniel._

"If we destroy the city, we're no better than the darkspawn!" Anders protests, staring incredulously at the archer. "Rahna's right; we have to _try_!"

"You think I _want_ to see fire ravage these streets?" Nathaniel shoots back. For someone so good at hiding his emotions, there's a sodding _war_ raging in his eyes. "It... it may be our only chance."

"I agree with Nathaniel," Stroud comments. "The loss of life is regrettable, but Thedas will always need Wardens. We must save as many as we can. We should return to your Vigil, Commander."

"And what if we could save someone?" I demand, crossing my arms and staring at Nathaniel. "_**Anyone**_?"

"It... it would take a miracle," he mutters softly, then sighs. "But I will follow your lead, Commander."

"Are you sure about this, Commander?" Stroud frowns.

I scoff. "You've obviously never seen Gabriel and Kiv fight, or you wouldn't be asking me that question. There are plenty of Wardens, they're on their guard against an attack, and I've spent a bloody _fortune_ upgrading that damned keep. It better hold, or I'm going to strangle Voldrik next time I see him." _Not to mention Wade forged better armor and weapons for the Vigil's soldiers. We can take them._

"No! If you stay, the Mother, she gets what she wants!" the talking darkspawn protests.

"You. Fight with us, and I may grant you mercy," I snap back. I can practically feel the shock from all my companions, but it _did_ warn us, didn't attack when under a truce, so things are a little knottier this time.

"Amaranthine, then," Garevel sighs, motioning for the militia forces to follow us. "The darkspawn are never this organized on their own. Something must be leading them. If we can eliminate the darkspawn leadership, we can go about finding survivors. I'll lead the common soldiers as support for you and your Wardens, Commander."

"I'll assist you," Aiden nods. "Maker be with you, Commander."

"And you," I nod in response.

**oOo**

"So, how are we doing this, Rahna?" Anders asks as we head toward the gateway into the city.

"We're splitting up," I answer. "You, Sigrun, and Stroud go around to the right. I'll have Garevel take some of the militia to back you up. Nathaniel and I will go left, and Aiden can support us with the rest of the militia. We'll meet at the chantry. That's probably when any surviving civilians are, so once you get there, stay there."

"You sure, Commander?" Sigrun frowns. "I mean, I know you're good, and Nathaniel's good, but just two of you?"

I grin at her. "If it makes you feel better, I'll split the militia unevenly in my favor."

She nods. "Do that. If something happens to you, there'll be a major leadership crisis at the Vigil, and that arse Zimri, or whatever his name is, will probably try to take over."

I chuckle at her dismay, despite the situation. "That won't be a problem, long as Varel's around. I told him if anything happens to me; I die or leave or whatever, either you or Nate gets to be in charge."

Sigrun makes a face at that. "Human politics? No thanks, Commander. Nathaniel can have it. I'd rather face down a broodmother."

Anders buries a laugh under a cough. "We should probably get moving..."

"I know, I know. Be safe, you three."

"You, too," Anders and Sigrun reply in unison.

It only take a minute to explain my plan to Garevel and Aiden, who both nod understanding, and then Garevel's mobilizing just under half of the militia to follow the other three.

I look up at Nathaniel. "You gonna be alright?"

"Do I have a choice?" he replies, looking at the remains of the city rather than me as he sighs. "Don't worry about me, Rahna. I'll be fine."

"Let's go then." I drop it, but I don't know if I believe him. I'm sure he'll _act_ like he's fine, even if he isn't. But I remember the state I was in when we had to defend the Alienage during the Battle of Denerim. _Fine_ was the last word anyone who knew me would have used to describe my state of mind. Just because Nathaniel is better at hiding what he's feeling doesn't means he's _not_ feeling. I still want to talk to him about why he was so willing to give up on the city, but for now, there's darkspawn to kill, and I doubt they're going to make it _easy_.

**oOo**

It's slow going, thanks to all the darkspawn running rampant through the city. And just having one person to back me up is forcing a more tactical approach than I would usually choose, since I don't want to risk the militia unless I have to. Aiden's warning about the Childers' corruption being more virulent is still fresh in my mind as I slice the legs out from under a hurlock near the market entranceway, racing in circles alongside the fact at least half the buildings in the city have collapsed or burned or both. Part of me starts to wonder if Nathaniel's right; it's too much to hope for, that in the midst of all this carnage and destruction and death, one specific person can still be alive.

But the rest of me stubbornly rebels at that thought. _After all, there __**are**__ surviviors._ Several militiamen have scrambled to join Aiden's forces after being rescued from encroaching darkspawn attackers. _What's wrong with hoping she's one of them?_

When we reach where Delilah's house and the Henleys' backed against each other, there's nothing but one huge pile of rubble, tumbled and scorched stone so intermingled you can't tell what went to which house. Nathaniel's jaw tightens and there's an extra vicious edge to his first shot when a pair of shrieks charge us from a nearby alleyway. The arrow drills the leading shriek right between the eyes, vanishing almost to the fletching. I wince as I duck under the other shriek's opening attack. _Definitely __**not**__ fine..._

The dragonbone sword Wade forged is perhaps the sharpest weapon I've ever used in my life, and it plunges into the shriek's chest with almost no resistance my very first strike. A small group of Childers lurks in the alley as well, but we make short work of them. At this moment, more than any other in the time I've known him, I am so _sodding_ glad Nathaniel Howe is not my enemy. While others, like Gabriel or Ashe, use their anger to make them wild and unpredictable, Nathaniel clamps down on his and somehow adds both accuracy and speed to his already considerable skill level.

I shoot him a concerned look after the last of the darkspawn have fallen and I've hauled the lone surviving militiaman to his feet. "Nate, are you-?"

"I'm fine, Rahna," he answers brusquely before the question's even left my mouth.

_No, you're not._ But I just sigh and press on toward the chantry.

**oOo**

It's not until we reach the stairs leading from the market to the plaza outside the chantry and inn that we run into a real problem: an emissary teamed up with a genlock alpha that has the same shadow-hugging abilities Kiv taught me.

I grunt in suppressed pain as the emissary hits me with a lightning spell. "Why do you bastards _always_ do that?" I holler as I dive at the emissary, spinning sideways at the last second to avoid the head-sized chunk of rock that comes hurling toward me. "Watch out, Nate!"

His reply is lost under the clang of metal on metal when the genlocks blocks me. I swear under my breath before striking at it. It parries, but I do occupy its attention long enough for Nathaniel to shoot it in the shoulder, rendering one of its arms useless. The genlock snarls and vanishes. Rather than wait for it to reappear, I resume my attack on the emissary. Without its bodyguard, it doesn't take long for me to dispatch the hurlock, despite the ice spell it summons that stiffens my joints and sets my teeth chattering.

But it's long enough. Even as I turn to find the genlock, I hear Nathaniel grunt in pain as it appears behind him and slices open the back of his knee. He curses and spins on his good leg, pounding one end of his bow into the side of the genlock's head.

_Oh, damn it all!_ I snatch up a handful of dirt from the path and toss it in the thing's eyes, which distracts it long enough for us to finish it off.

Its corpse hasn't even hit the ground yet before I've sheathed my swords. "How bad did it get you?" I demand, knowing from the blood oozing down Nathaniel's armor that either I'm not going to like the answer or he's going to lie.

Nathaniel sighs. "I've had worse. But not by much," he admits when I raise an eyebrow at him.

I swear under my breath. "Anders is never going to let us live this down, you know that, right? The one time I send him somewhere else is the one time we really need him..."

Nathaniel chuckles wryly. "If you just do the best you can, I think I can manage until we regroup with them. It's not that far to the chantry, and I can't sense too many darkspawn ahead."

"Oh, balls," I mutter. "Fine. But you're still the most damned stubborn person I've met-besides me. Hold still." I dig out bandages and the last healing poultice in my pack and drop to my knees to patch him up best I can. "Can I... ask you something?"

"Sure." He braces one hand against a nearby section of the wall to keep his balance, flinching a little when I touch the wound.

"Sorry. How come you were so willing to give up on the city? I mean, I know you said you were preparing yourself for the worst, but I'm still trying to make things add up. I've had to face the potential destruction of my family and where I considered home before, and I was ready to fight to my last breath to save even part of it. I know I'm not you, but considering how close you and Delilah are, you just... surprised me with that."

He sighs, staring at the wall as he answers. "There are nights I still see Adria's face in my sleep, Rahna. Not the way she was before I left for the Free Marches; the way she looked when she... died. The last thing I want, the only thing that could possibly be _worse_ than that would be to have the same happen to Delilah." He shakes his head. "I don't want to remember my sister as a corpse or a ghoul. There's enough to keep me awake at night without adding that."

"Oh." I bite my lip in concentration as I finish wrapping the bandages around his knee and push back to my feet. "That makes sense. I guess we'll just have to find her alive then, won't we?"

"You really are incorrigable, aren't you?" he mutters. "You still think there's a chance of that?"

I shrug and grin at him. "You never know. C'mon, we need to get to the chantry so Anders can really fix you up."

**oOo**

I wind up having to call on the militia; the last thing between us and the chantry is an ogre. With Nathaniel limping like he is, we're going to need more help. They're all too willing to oblige, and the ogre goes down fast. We make it inside the chantry and both Nathaniel and I are more than happy to let the wall support us. I'm so tired my bones feel like jelly and my muscles are burning with fatigue.

"There you two are!" Anders appears from the crowd of refugees, looking both relieved and tired himself. His eyes drop to my clumsy job bandaging Nathaniel's leg and shoots me an 'I told you so' look. "What happened here?"

"Genlock alpha who could go bloody invisible," I answer. "I was distracted by an emissary just long enough for it to be a problem."

"I see. Nothing I can't fix," the mage grins, peeling off the bloodstained bandages.

Before he gets the chance to cast a single spell, however, there's a gasp of delight from halfway across the room. "Oh, thank the Maker!"

Delilah slams into her brother's chest with enough force that were it not for the wall behind him, she would probably have knocked him over. Nathaniel wraps his arms around her and I can almost see the echoing prayer of thanks in his eyes when they meet mine.

Being _me_, I can't resist smirking at him, even tired as I am. _Told ya so, Nate._

_A/N: And my trend of injuring the characters I really like(or love *cough*) continues. XD On another note, it's always, always bugged me that Nathaniel's one of the ones who wants to destroy the city. I know from a mechanics perspectives they wanted to have three on each side so it's an even split, but I could not for the life of me figure out why they made the only one of your Wardens with FAMILY in the city fall on the side of burning the place ot the ground and returning to the Vigil (especially since she's all the family he has left and they seem close). So I had to do some real thinking to come up with a reason for Nathaniel to feel that way that still feels in character for him. Because the last thing I want to do is ruin the character of my favorite BioWare man ever. :3 This is what I came up with to 'splain._


	59. At the Vigil

59. At the Vigil

"Rahna was right."

Jowan raised an eyebrow as he turned to look at Gabriel, finally mananging to tear his eyes off the road toward the city. "About what?"

The elf grinned as he leaned his back against the battlement. "You worry too much."

"And who says I was worrying?" Jowan protested.

Gabriel's grin widened. "Were you?"

The mage sighed. "Yes," he admitted reluctantly, absently tugging the tail end of his ponytail.

"You need to stop doing that." Gabriel turned so he was facing out toward the road as well. "Especially where Rahna's concerned."

Jowan rolled his eyes. "I.. don't think I'll ever manage that, Gabriel."

"Why not? I know she doesn't like the title, but she is a bloody hero, no? Whatever she may say about how much help she had or what other people did to aid her, she _earned_ that title somehow, and I think it involved being very hard to kill."

Jowan chuckled at that. "I know. I know she's very good at staying alive, very good at killing darkspawn, but..." He sighed. "I still like to worry."

"D'you worry about Miri like this?" Gabriel teased.

Jowan nodded sheepishly. "Maybe even a bit more, 'cause she's a mage, so she doesn't even have armor to help keep her alive, just her robes."

"Why?"

"Why what?" He frowned at the redhead in confusion.

"Why do you worry about them so much? Especially when you cannot change anything by doing so."

"They're... They're the only friends I have, Gabriel." Jowan looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb hard against the scar across his palm. "You don't worry about Miri?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I can't help her by worrying, and I only distract myself, which means I'm more likely to get myself killed. I don't think that would make her too happy, no?"

"I'd have to agree with you there," Jowan conceded. "She misses you, y'know."

"I miss her, too." Gabriel raked one hand through his hair. "But that is the life of a Warden, no? You go where they need you to go and stay where they need you to stay. There is no guarantee that will be the same place as anyone you know... or love."

"True, but with me here, Kaiten's down a Warden," Jowan pointed out. "If I wind up staying here-which I have a feeling I will-I'm sure they wouldn't mind an able-bodied warrior to fill the empty spot."

Gabriel laughed. "I thought the whole reason you were there is because they needed mages. So why would they accept trading a mage for a warrior?"

Jowan shrugged. "They have Miri, who's a better mage than I am by a long shot, and some other mage from Starkhaven was on his way when I left, at least that's what I heard."

"I'll keep that in mind," the elf chuckled. "It is very tempting..."

"With how much I missed Rahna when we're only friends, I can only imagine how badly you miss Miri."

Gabriel grinned at him. "With that hug you got when we arrived... are you sure the two of you are just friends?"

"Maker's breath, not you, too!" Jowan groaned. "Miri's convinced I'm sweet on Rahna and vice versa. She spent_ hours _trying to get me to admit it on one of our forays into the Deep Roads."

Gabriel shrugged and kept grinning. "I just know what I saw, _mon ami_. But if you say you are just friends, I will take your word for it."

"Thanks for that," Jowan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nice to have someone believe me for a change." He frowned, his gaze jerking off toward the Farevel Plains. "Did you feel that?" he demanded, already moving down the wall in search of a better view.

"No..." Gabriel replied slowly, drawing out the word hesitantly. "Feel what?"

"Darkspawn," Jowan shot back. "I think they're coming."

**oOo**

Sure enough, a few hours later, the more keen-eyed soldiers could make out the approaching army. And it was an _army_.

"Good thing we planned for this, eh?" Varel asked as they watched the darkspawn creep closer. "They'll not be catching us unawares. Good thing you felt them coming."

Gabriel shook his head. "Jowan sensed them first. I'd swear mages are more attuned to the taint."

"Frightening thought," the seneschal muttered. "But it might come in handy. How do you want to go about the defenses, ser Warden? The Commander did leave you in charge."

"Any ogres or emissaries we see need to be our first targets, since they're going to be the biggest threat. We can have the archers pick off the emissaries, but it's going to take more than arrows to stop an ogre." He frowned thoughtfully. "We'll need magic or a ballista, or something like that..."

"Ser, there is a ballista on the ramparts, but I don't know how many bolts we have for it," Sergeant Maverlies volunteered.

"Go find out, sergeant," Gabriel ordered. "And if there's enough for it to be worth using, can you stay there and operate it?"

The woman nodded. "Yes, ser."

"Good. You do that, then. The only reason I want to see you back down here is if it's not in working order or is out of bolts, understood?"

She nodded again before darting off for where the ballista had been mounted.

"Where d'you want us, Gabriel?" Kiv asked.

"Us as in the Wardens who're still here, or us as in you and Syn?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow at his friend.

Kiv laughed. "All of the Wardens here."

"Ah. The mages need to be up here, at least to start, and the rest of you... take positions in the courtyard, just in case they get through somewhere."

Kiv nodded, but turned back as he went to leave. "Gabriel, don't you think we should keep one of the mages back as healer?"

"Maybe if the darkspawn manage to breech the courtyard, yes. I believe Velanna is the better healer of the two. If the darkspawn get inside, try to convince her to fall back to the keep."

"She will not listen. The elf is most stubborn, and the darkspawn took her sister, as I understand it." The rattle of armor accompanied the comment as Justice joined them, passing Kiv as the elf left.

_Is it just because I knew Kristoff before he... died that I find him difficult to be around?_ Gabriel wondered as he turned to nod a greeting to the spirit. "You know this for a fact?"

Justice shrugged. "I have not been here very long, Warden. Even in that short time, I have noticed that the elf is stubborn, and has great anger toward the darkspawn for taking her sister. I think if you let her fight them, she will not leave."

"Alright..." Gabriel sighed. "Jowan, how are you with healing?"

The mage shrugged. "I'm... not the best, but I'll do what I can if you need me to."

"I'll keep that in mind." Gabriel glanced toward the approaching army. "Maker, they're moving fast... We need to get all the civilians to wherever in the keep is going to be the safest. Varel?"

The seneschal nodded. "I'll have some of my men take care of it, Warden." He motioned to a pair of militia who stood on the wall nearby and they darted off to gather up the non-military residents of the Vigil and get them somewhere safe. Varel looked toward the darkspawn. "I suppose now our success rests in the Maker's hands."

A wry smile pulled at the corners of Gabriel's mouth. "I hope He is in a merciful mood, no?"

**oOo**

Never in his wildest dreams had he expected the darkspawn to come so well-prepared. Gabriel fought back a grimace as he surveyed the teeming mess below the wall. "_Ciel nous aide..._"

He saw Jowan's grip on his staff tighten as the man leaned over the wall's edge to look for himself. "Well, Rahna did say the ones here were different from the other darkspawn she'd encountered," he muttered, swallowing hard.

There were enough ogres dotting the seething crowd of darkspawn they would never be able to kill them all before the gates broke. Even as the conclusion set itself in his mind, two of the ogres howled and slammed themselves against the gates. It didn't matter how strong they had been built, they weren't going to last long against _that_. And a couple of the emissaries had cast warding glyphs that made it impossible to do any kind of damage-magical or conventional-to the monstrous creatures.

"We need more of the men down in the courtyard," Gabriel ordered, already turning away from the battlement as the walls vibrated with the force of the ogres crashing into the gate once more. "Some need to stay up here, in cas they try to scale the walls, but we need to get more men in the courtyard. When those ogres break through, that whole damned army is going to follow them."

Jowan nodded, and the two of them led a good number of the Vigil's soldiers down to the courtyard.

"Hey, boss. Afraid we were gonna have all the fun?" Kiv teased.

Gabriel snorted. "Hardly, _mon ami_. There are more than enough darkspawn for the both of us, no?"

"_That's_ reassuring," Syn muttered, tightening her grip on her greatsword.

"Where are the rest?" Gabriel asked.

"Aimon and the dwarf are over near the south wall, Zimri is up on the walls somewhere, as is Velanna-and good luck getting her down-and I don't know where Justice ended up," Kiv admitted, his gaze darting toward the gate as they shuddered under a new assault from the ogres. "How much longer you figure we have?"

A splintering crack echoed across the courtyard from the direction of the gate.

"Not long at all," Gabriel replied, settling his shield on his arm and drawing his sword. "You ready for this?"

Kiv grinned and twirled his swords around his hands. "Bet I can kill more than you."

"In your dreams," Gabriel retorted.

"You two are such children," Syn giggled. "'Sides, I'll prob'ly kill more than both of you."

"You're on," Kiv smirked at her. "We can discuss the loser's punishment after I beat you."

"Ooh, feeling cocky are we? Let's see you back that up with action, ser Marrin."

He offered her a teasing bow as the gates let out another loud crack. "As you wish, my lady Aeducan."

"Time for all of us to back up our boasting!" Gabriel warned them as the gates finally surrendered to the ogres' onslaught.

"Promise me one thing," Syn muttered. "_If_ things go badly... don't let them take me. No matter what you have to do." She gave them both a meaningful look.

Gabriel nodded solemnly. "I promise, Syn."

A light of protest flickered in Kiv's eyes for a moment before he nodded. "As do I." They both knew that, being a dwarven woman, Syn had far more exposure to and knowledge of what happened to women the darkpawn took. One of the few fates Gabriel knew of that was literally worse than death.

As the darkspawn army charged through the ruined gates, the Wardens all picked a target and ran to meet them.

**oOo**

One of the problems with these being more intelligent darkspawn was that they all seemed to recognize the greater threat posed by a mage, much the way the Wardens made emissaries priority targets. Jowan didn't think he'd ever spent so much time _ducking_ during a fight before, even in the Deep Roads in the Free Marches. He'd lost track of how many times he'd narrowly avoided a darkspawn sword intent on either skewering him or removing his head. The others were all busy enough shredding through the darkspawn, occasionally teaming up to take down an ogre, that he was pretty much fending for himself.

Not a good thing when there was only one of him and what seemed an endless line of darkspawn that all wanted to kill him. Jowan twisted out of the way as a hurlock took a swing at him and retaliated with a fire spell that roasted the hurlock and the two genlocks behind it.

As with every other time, it seemed ever so briefly like he had the upper hand, but no sooner had those corpse hit the ground then there were five more darkspawn in their place.

_Sweet bloody Andraste, I can't keep this up..._ Jowan groaned, already backpedaling away from the approaching hurlocks. A whisper-soft _something_ tweaked his senses, and the mage dodged sideways, just in time to avoid getting skewered by the shriek that appeared behind him. Jowan stunned all of them with a wave of telekenetic energy, trying to figure out how to kill them without getting himself killed in the process. _Maker, I could really use some help right about_- The shriek recovered much faster than he'd expected it to and lunged forward, its bladed fists both swinging in his direction. _**NOW!**_

Whether or not the Maker actually heard him, the bloodstained greatsword that nearly cut the shriek in two was an answer to prayer. "Need a hand, Warden?"

Jowan nodded, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand. "That would be appreciated, seneschal. There's only so much I can do alone."

"No need to look so sheepish, lad," Varel chuckled, eyeing the surrounding darkspawn corpses and the group of just-recovering hurlocks. "Looks like you've managed to take care of yourself."

Jowan snorted. "Barely."

"If you're alive and they're not, I'd say that's all that matters," the seneschal pointed out as they turned their attention to the advancing hurlocks. Jowan didn't get a chance to reply as the lead hurlock got close enough to try something. Its attack earned it a fresh coating of ice to stiffen its limbs and slow it down, followed by a greatsword to the chest.

The two behind it met their ends by way of a lightning spell that leapt between them after leaving Jowan's fingertips. The last hurlock tried to attack from the side as Jowan was preoccupied with casting his lightning spell, and Varel took off its head.

"Thanks," the mage managed, trying to catch his breath, now that there was a bit of a respite.

"Not a problem, Warden," Varel replied. "From what I understand, you and the Commander are very good friends. I don't think she'd be too happy if anything happened to you. And since she's a right holy terror when she's mad..."

Jowan laughed. "Best to avoid that, yes."

"Do you think you'll be alright now? I need to go make sure the militia are holding up." Varel's gaze darted toward the gate as a cry of pain sounded from that direction. "They're not used to fighting darkspawn and-"

"I'll go with you," Jowan cut him off. "Oghren and Zimri aren't letting anymore get in over here anyway."

Varel nodded his thanks. "I'll not turn you down, Warden. Help would be appreciated."

The two of them headed for the gate together.

**oOo**

"Kiv, watch your back!" Gabriel hollered, the warning all the help he could offer his friend as he was preoccupied with a pair of leering hurlocks. He ducked under the crude battleaxe one wielded, spinning sideways to take out the other's legs and burying his sword in its chest in one smooth motion. He saw Syn rush to help Kiv as he raised his shield to block the surviving hurlock's retaliation.

It hammered a trio of relentless blows against the elf's shield, making his ears ring with the clang of metal on metal. Its fatal mistake was hauling back to put extra power into the fourth blow. It gave Gabriel the nanosecond he needed to slam his shield into its chest and knock it off its feet. He slit its throat even as it tried to get back up.

Gabriel glanced over at Kiv and Syn. The two of them were splattered with so much darkspawn blood they'd be spending all night cleaning their armor, but neither looked like they'd been serious hurt. "You two alright?"

Kiv spared time for a single, brief nod before throwing himself at an ogre. Syn uttered a vehement dwarven curse and followed behind him. "Blast it, you idiot elf! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Gabriel chuckled at the two of them. Syn sounded a lot like Miri; yelling at her sweetheart like that. The warrior surveyed the battlefield in the brief moment of rest he had. _Wonder where everyone else is..._ The thought had barely crossed his mind when he caught sight of Varel and Jowan making their way toward the knot of militia stubbornly standing their ground near the gate, helping the Wardens despite the danger of corruption.

"Warden." Varel nodded a terse battlefield greeting, which Gabriel returned as the seneschal turned to rally his men.

None of them saw the ogre until it was too late. The beast charged past the Wardens, knocking them aside as it rammed its head into Varel's chest.

Gabriel was cursing the fact Velanna was nowhere to be found and yelling for Jowan to see what he could do even as both he and Kiv dove toward the ogre. _You're going to pay for that..._

_A/N: Well, despite all my best intentions, I think the Vigil people will be getting another chapter, because I'm not so mean as to leave things hanging like this for longer than a week, and the chapter's already getting long. Plus, there's more for them I wanted to mention that I haven't yet, so Rahna and Co are going to have to wait another week. And sorry about the uncreative title; I couldn't think of anything better..._

_Translation_

_Ciel nous aide = heaven help us_

_mon ami = my friend_


	60. In Over My Head

60. In Over My Head

_Maker, this is not good_. Jowan winced when Varel coughed up blood. That was a very bad sign. "You realize if you die on me, Rahna won't be happy," he muttered as he summoned a healing spell.

"Not..." Varel coughed again, grimacing at the pain. "Not if... there wasn't anything... you could do. Maker..." He spat out a mouthful of blood.

Jowan flinched and ducked instinctively as a genlock got a little too close for comfort. He hit it with a lightning spell. "Syn! Don't let them get through!" With Gabriel and Kiv both focusing on the ogre, she was the only one left to guard against darkspawn attacks while Jowan at least tried to heal the seneschal.

"Sorry! Only so much a girl can do!" the dwarf hollered back.

He knew that, but getting decapitated was still something Jowan wanted to avoid. He summoned a healing spell, pouring as much power into it as he dared. "I'd need relative safety to do anything more; the concentration required for more powerful spells wouldn't be a good idea in the middle of a battlefield," he explained to Varel.

"_More_ powerful?" Varel raised an eyebrow at him. "You're already... looking pale, Warden..."

Jowan waved him off. "I'll be fine. I need to get you inside the keep..." He looked around, knowing there was no way the seneschal would make it under his own power. The man was barely concious and while that healing spell had been enough to keep him alive, it hadn't really _fixed_ anything. He finally caught the attention of a militiaman and beckoned him over. "What's your name?"

"Cor, ser," the young man replied, his eyes widening as Varel coughed up more blood. "Is he going to be alright?"

"I don't know yet," Jowan snapped back, before reining in his frayed nerves. "His injuries are mostly internal, and I need to get him somewhere safer before I can properly heal him." _If I can at all..._ "Can you help me get him on his feet and inside?"

Cor nodded. "Y-Yes, ser." He sheathed his sword and slung his shield on his back, and then mage and soldier each took one of the seneschal's arms and hauled him to his feet. Varel's knees buckled almost immediately, so the two of them draped his arms over their shoulders and Cor grabbed the back of the seneschal's belt.

"Hurry up!" Syn yelled, but Jowan wasn't sure if she was yelling at him or Gabriel and Kiv. Either way, she was right. He and Cor headed for the keep as fast as they could go. Jowan stumbled halfway there, prompting Cor to ask if he was alright. The mage nodded. He wasn't about to admit that the adrenaline had worn off just enough for him to feel the beginning of fatigue setting in. _I just need a lyrium potion, and I'll be fine..._

When they finally reached the keep, a soldier standing guard at the door directed them to the throne room. "We 'ad to... expand the infirmary, ser."

Fortunately, there was a free cot not too far from the door, and Jowan and Cor lowered Varel onto it.

"You don't look too good y'self, ser mage," the herbalist commented.

"Just... low on mana," Jowan explained, trying to catch his breath. "You... You wouldn't happen to have any lyrium potions, would you?"

The dark haired young woman smiled. "I'll see what I can find," she promised, and was gone.

"You sure that's all you need?" Cor asked.

Jowan nodded. "Get the seneschal's armor off. It'll be easier for me to heal him if I can at least get a better idea _what_ needs healing." _Maker, I am in so damned far over my head..._

**oOo**

Gabriel let out a wordless cry of triumph as the ogre finally tumbled to the ground, both of Kiv's swords buried in its throat, and over a dozen gashes scoring its legs from his own sword.

Kiv wrenched his blades free and grinned at his best friend. "That makes thirty five for me, Gabriel, which means I'm winning."

Gabriel glared at him. "Wasn't this a team effort?"

Kiv swiped the back of one hand across his forehead, wiping off sweat and ichor both. "You can count it, too. Where's that give you?"

"Thirty two," Gabriel replied, still glaring.

"Thirty _**nine**_!" Syn hollered behind them as she skewered a hurlock. "C'mon, boys. You've got some catching up to do."

"_Merde,_" Gabriel muttered. "We can't let her win. We'll never hear the end of it."

"Agreed," Kiv answered. "Let's get to work, yes?"

So they did. Having the threat of Syn beating them over their heads, the two elves threw themselves into the fight. They were both so concentrated on killing darkspawn, they didn't even notice as the horde of creatures started gradually driving them further and further apart. By the time that detail caught enough of Gabriel's attention to be a concern, they were far enough apart, there was nothing to be done but shrug and keep fighting. Hurlocks, shrieks, genlocks all blurred together into one huge mass of beasts that needed to die.

It wasn't until he tangled with a hurlock alpha that Gabriel began to worry. _Sweet Andraste... I might be in a little over my head..._ he conceded mentally, dodging a blow from the monster's shield. He backpedaled to give himself more room, a swift glance over his shoulder showing he didn't have much space before backing into the wall. The hurlock growled and swung its sword in a graceless, powerful arc. Gabriel brought his shield up to block it and felt the vibrations all the way to his shoulder. This one was _strong_. He pushed against it, shoving the sword aside and making a strike of his own. His sword grated against the hurlock's armor but didn't do any real damage. The alpha recovered quickly and rammed its shield against his chest. Gabriel didn't have time to dodge this time, and the blow drove him back into the wall.

The collision with the stone drove all the breath from his lungs and he could already feel bruises forming on his back, but Gabriel still managed to block the hurlock's follow-up strike. He felt its sword grate against his shield, and the creature growled as it pushed harder, knocking his shield aside with enough force the elf felt his wrist snap when his shield collided with the wall.

He clamped down on the white-hot spike of pain that shot up his arm, channeling it into the rage that powered his fighting style. His shield arm hanging limp and useless, Gabriel rammed his good shoulder into the hurlock's chest, blocked its return swing with his sword, and slashing the blade across the creature's chest. While he may not have pierced its armor, the hurlock did go reeling backwards, which gave him a moment to breathe.

It turned out to be unnecessary, however. Even as the alpha recovered and prepared to charge at him agaim, a thick cluster of roots shot out of the ground and tangled around the hurlock's limbs before retreating back into the ground with enough speed and force to break every bone in its body when it slammed against the hard-packed earth.

"Maker's breath..." Breathing hard and fighting waves of nauseating pain, Gabriel looked around for the person responsible for... whatever that had been.

"A simple 'thank you' will work, Warden," the blonde Dalish commented brusquely as she approached.

"I... that... Thank you, Velanna." Gabriel raked sweaty hair off his forehead. "I've never seen magic like that before."

"I learned it from our Keeper," she sniffed. "Are you injured at all?"

"Broken wrist and some bruises," Gabriel told her. "I've fought with worse."

"But we need you effective," she snapped back. "Which wrist is broken? At least let me take care of that."

He had to admit she was right. He could fight through the pain of broken bones, yes. But he wasn't nearly as good. "Shield arm." He shook his arm free of the shield's grips and held it out toward her. "Just do enough I can manage to fight. Don't want you wasting magic that could be used on the darkspawn, no?"

She chuckled, almost despite herself it seemed. "I... might like you." She healed his arm most of the way. It was still a bit sore, and he wouldn't want to fight something like that alpha with it, but it would do. "There."

"Many thanks, my lady." Gabriel stooped to retrieve his shield and thus missed the light of amusement at some private joke that danced ever-so-briefly through the mage's eyes. "Now, I'll let you get back to killing darkspawn."

"I should think you need to do that yourself, as well," Velanna returned before focusing her attention on the next wave of darkspawn. "Be on your way, Warden. I work better alone."

Having absolutely no reason to doubt her, Gabriel shrugged and charged back toward the gateway of the keep, noting that the arched entrance was rapidly clogging with darkspawn. "We could use your help, Velanna," he called over his shoulder, but the Dalish mage was already gone. Gabriel sighed and threw himself into the fight, quickly finding Kiv and assuming a back-to-back stance with his best friend. "Where's Syn?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Kiv replied as he slit open a genlock's throat. "She ran off to help one of the others, don't even know who, and I haven't seen her since."

"Ah. I'm sure she's fine; probably just racking up kills, no?" Gabriel chuckled, panting slightly as he lunged forward to behead a hurlock.

Kiv snorted a breathless half-laugh. "Probably is. Speaking of which... I'm up to fifty seven."

Gabriel smirked. "Sixty two."

The Rivaini elf laughed. "You bastard..."

"What, just because I'm better-" Gabriel ducked under another hurlock battleaxe, shoved the heavy weapon aside with his shield, and gutted the creature wielding it. "-at this than you?"

"In your dreams..." Kiv retorted. He stiffened a few seconds later and hollered out a warning. "Ogre!"

Gabriel turned so they both faced the montrous creature. "Five silver says I get the killing blow on this one."

"It's armored. Make it ten and you're on," Kiv challenged.

"Done." The two elves charged forward, Kiv vanishing into the lengthening shadows that crept outward from the gateway and walls, Gabriel keeping the ogre's attention so his friend could do what he did best.

By the time they brought it down, they were both panting and nursing a multitude of bruises, at least a couple broken ribs each, and Kiv had a beaut of a black eye.

"That'll be ten silver, soon as we're out of this mess," Gabriel teased as he yanked his sword out of the ogre's skull.

"You'll have to... reminded me later," Kiv shot back, wincing as he gingerly felt around his eye. "Maker, I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, Gabriel."

"I know. Same here." He shrugged. "Not like we have much choice..."

**oOo**

"Here you are, ser mage." The herbalist returned and handed Jowan a good-sized lyrium potion. "Are... are you sure this'll be enough?"

Jowan nodded, despite the fatigue he felt settling in. "It'll be fine, thank you."

The girl nodded. "Alright, then. Just let me know if you ned help."

"I will," Jowan promised, hoping neither she not Cor notice how badly his hands were shaking as he uncorked the potion. "Um... _If_ I need help, what's your name?"

"Aravis. Everyone calls me Ara, though," she smiled, playing with a lock of hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

"Ara," Jowan repeated with a half-smile. "Much easier to remember. I promise, I'll ask for help if I need it."

"'Kay."

"Ara! I could use some help over here!" an urgent voice called from the other side of the makeshift infirmary.

" 'M coming!" Ara called back, already picking her way through the maze of cots spread throughout the throne room.

"Warden, d'you still need me, or..." Cor let the question trail off as his eyes darted toward the door.

"Or can you get back to the fighting?" Jowan finished for him.

Cor shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I have friends out there, ser. I... it just doesn't feel right; me being safe in here while they're out there fightin' and dyin' to keep this place safe."

Jowan nodded. "I understand." _That's what makes a good soldier._ He glanced down at Varel. "I could manage without you from here," he conceded, "but help would be greatly appreciated. Up to you."

"Ser, you dunno what I owe the seneschal," Cor replied. "If my stayin' will help you keep him from dying..." He sighed and raked one hand through his straw blond hair. "I'm stayin' right here."

"Alright, then." Jowan downed the lyrium potion in one long gulp, grimacing just a little at the taste. The resulting rush of energy was more than worth the bitter tang lyrium carried, though. Especially considering how much work he had ahead of him. "Much better." He raked his hair out of his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't entirely sure he _could_ save Varel, if he was honest, not that he'd tell Cor that. _After all, Maker only know how much damage that damned ogre did..._

He was still determined to try. The pale light of a healing spell pulsed to life around his hand. "Let's see what we can do."

_A/N: Gabriel and Kiv are oh-so-fun to write together. :) This friendly rivalry thing is a blast to write. And yes, I will freely admit the whole competing for more kills thing is based off Legolas and Gimli from _The Lord of the Rings_. There's also a shout-out to _The Chronicles of Narnia _in here. An internet cookie if you can spot it. :) And now that things are somewhat less cliff-hangerish, Rahna and Co should be back next week. Oh, and SIXTY CHAPTERS. YAYS. 8D_


	61. Back Into the Fray

61. Back Into the Fray

Delilah doesn't let go of her brother for a very long moment, clinging to him in a strange combination of relief and terror, not seeming to mind in the least that his armor is splattered with darkspawn blood.

When she finally lets go and steps back, the first words out of Nathaniel's mouth are "Are you alright?"

I can't really blame him for asking. It's obvious she's not gushing blood or anything like that, but that's still a perfectly natural response. I can see a huge and lovely greenish-yellow bruise blossoming on her jawline, back near her ear, but other than that, it looks like just the scrapes and scratches that mar her hands and arms up to the elbows.

A guess Delilah confirms when she nods. "I'm fine, Nathaniel. Cuts and bruises, that's all. Very lucky compared to some."

"I know," he says softly.

She rests her hands on his arms as if reluctant to let go entirely. "I knew you'd come." She looks over at me and offers a weary, grateful smile. "As soon as the darkspawn appeared and Peter decided to run for the Vigil to ask for help, I knew you'd come, Commander. And I was fairly certain you would come with her, Nate," she adds, turning back to her brother.

I chuckle. "I haven't ever officially declared anyone to be my right-hand man, but if I do... it'll be him."

A wry half-smile pulls at Nathaniel's lips. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, much as I hate to break up this reunion... Nate, don't you think you should let Anders take care of that before you bleed to death?" I nod toward his leg, which has started to bleed again.

"Maker's breath!" Delilah gasps when she sees the nasty gash the genlock's blade caused. "Nathaniel, why didn't you _say_ something? I could have waited if I knew you were hurt!"

"I'm too tired for it to hurt much," he mutters, rubbing his forehead.

She rolls her eyes. "Men. Come on, I think there's a clear spot where you can sit down over here..." Motioning for Anders to follow, she tugs Nathaniel's arm to lead him toward one of the side chambers. He, of course, stumbles and nearly falls the second he tries to get his injured leg to support any weight. Delilah lets out a sigh of sisterly remonstrance at his stubbornness and ducks under his arm to help him.

I let them go. I need to find the commander of the city guard; find out how things stand. Aiden and Garevel are out organizing defenses in case more darkspawn show up, I know that much. But I want to know about survivors and how things stand inside the city.

I find the man near the front doors of the chantry, talking to his men. He finishes whatever he was saying to them as I approach, turning and bowing in greeting when I reach him. "Warden-Commander."

I return the greeting. "Commander. Where do we stand?"

"Scouts report another wave of darkspawn approching. They'll reach the city by morning," he replies. "Until then... You can rest and resupply here, Commander."

"What about survivors?"

"The militia are still out searching. It doesn't look like they're going to find many more than are already here," he admits somberly.

"Thank you, Commander. That will be all." I can't help but remain optimistic, even though I know he's probably right. Now that we know Delilah's alive and pretty much unharmed, I find myself wondering about Vi. I forgot to ask Delilah before-too busy gloating internally that I was right about her being alive-so I head back toward where I left the Howe siblings and my healer. _Wonder where Sigrun and Stroud got to?_ I muse as I pick my way through the pews and the crowds of survivors who fill them.

When I reach the spot where Delilah took Nathaniel, she's moved off, and he's sitting on a bench, glaring at the damaged leather greave in his hands.

"Come on, it can't be that bad, Nate," I comment, only half joking, as I sit next to him.

"Rahna, it's _ruined_," he points out, handing it to me so I can see for myself. I have to admit he's right; the way the genlock's blade cut through it, there's no repairing this, at least not in time.

"So we'll dig up new ones," I reply, fingering the edges of the cut through the leather.

"Those were my best ones," he grumbles.

"Oh, cheer up, would you?" I nudge him with my shoulder. "How can you still be such a grump when your sister's alive?"

"I honestly don't know," he admits with a shrug. "I _want_ to be happy she's alright, trust me. Maybe I'm just too tired to feel much of anything right now."

"Wouldn't blame you if you were," I concede around a yawn. "Speaking of Delilah, where'd she go?"

Nathaniel motions further down the side chamber. "With Vi."

"Oh, good, she made it, too?" I start to feel a little more justified in my optimism.

He nods. "Like Delilah; just scrapes and bruises. But she lost both her parents."

I feel a fresh wave of horror and sorrow and _**fury**_ well up inside me. _This is the Mother's doing. Whatever feud there is between her and the Architect, she did this to get at the Grey Wardens because she knows we're... valuable to him, whatever that means._ "Maker, that's... that's horrible."

Another nod from Nathaniel, this one slower. "It is that. Delilah says she hasn't stopped crying since they made it here." We both look toward where his sister is sitting next to her best friend, an arm around the other woman's shoulders as she just lets her cry. Delilah's free hand runs soothing circles on Vi's back, occasionally pausing to brush aside the tangled wheat-blonde curls that fall to almost halfway to Vi's waist.

A flash of remembered pain from losing my mother shoots through my mind, but I know even that's not the same, because at least I still had my father. "You know, we have all night to rest and resupply. You could go offer her another shoulder to cry on."

Nathaniel raises an eyebrow at me. "Still matchmaking, Rahna?"

"No! I wouldn't do that at a time like this!" I protest. But a smirk quickly follows that. "Of course, now I have to wonder why your first thought would be that that's what I was doing. D'you really like her _that_ much?"

"I don't..." He lets out an exasperated sigh. "I don't know her _that_ well yet, Rahna. But with what I do know so far..." He stands, his gaze on his sister and her weeping best friend. "I have to admit, I'm willing to see where-if anywhere-things might go between us."

"Just go." I nudge him towards them when he hesitates. "I need to find the others anyway." _Two 'I told you so's inside an hour. That's __**gotta**__ be a new record..._ I smirk as I watch the archer walk toward Delilah and Vi.

**oOo**

I find Anders healing some of the more badly injured survivors and so decide to leave him to it, with only one teasing reminder to make sure he gets _some_ rest so he's up to fighting more darkspawn in the morning. He responds with a playful salute and an equally teasing 'yes, boss'.

Sigrun and Stroud are already resting; the dwarf nodding off but still awake enough to mumble a sleepy greeting when she sees me coming, but the Orlesian is staring pensively at the wall rather than trying to get sleep.

"Commander," he greets me with a respectful nod. "It appears I was wrong about the city; it was worth saving. From the report the constable gave, it sounded hopeless."

"I know Wardens need to care more about the greater good and stopping the darkspawn than anything else, but I don't have it in me to abandon civilians, much less destroy a city when I may be killing the very people I'm trying to save." The memory of the riot at the Vigil surfaces and I shudder. "And besides, if we want them to be willing to have us around and help us when we need it, we can't abandon them when _they_ need _us_."

"Well spoken. Goodwill is important, and you trust the strength of your fortress."

"And the skill of the men and women stationed there," I add. "I've dueled with both Gabriel and Kiv, and fought alongside Jowan before. Trust me, it'll be fine. You should get some rest, the city guard commander expect more darkspawn to arrive by morning."

"Of course, Commander."

Feeling better now that I've 'seen to my troops', I go looking for an empty cot, or even an empty corner, where I can curl up and get some _sleep._ I find a spot in the library; a bench jammed in between two rows of shelves. It looks far from comfortable, but I've slept on worse, and I'm so bloody _tired_ I could sleep on tree roots. I flop down on the bench, pillow my head on my arm, and fall asleep without so much as removing my boots.

**oOo**

_"You sure you're alright, love?" I hear the blankets rustle behind me as Alistair shifts position in our bedroll to prop his chin on one hand, elbow braced against the ground._

_ "I'm fine," I assure him for the dozenth time since we left Redcliffe, making sure the lie sounds as convincing as every other time I've uttered it. "Why do you keep asking me, anyway?"_

_ "I dunno," he admits, his free hand draped over my waist and running lazy circles on my stomach. "You've just seemed... distracted since Morrigan left. Like you're worried about something."_

_ "You noticed, huh?" I sigh and roll onto my back so I can look at him._

_ He grins at me. "All evidence to the contrary, I'm not a __**complete**__ idiot."_

_ I wrinkle my nose at him. "I know that. I just... I thought I did a good job hiding it is all."_

_ "You did," Alistair assures me. "I don't any of the others noticed, except maybe Zevran. I just know you too well to __**not**__ notice. And now that we've established that you were worried, I have to ask... what about? Is it whatever happened with you and Morrigan?"_

_ "Yes and no. I'm not so much distracted by what happened as the fact that I now have to go into the biggest battle of my life without one of the people I'd come to depend on having. We'll manage, I'm sure, but I'm so sodding used to fighting with you, Morrigan, and Wynne... it'll be difficult."_

_ "When are you going to tell me why she left?"_

_ I sigh and meet his eyes. "It's not important, Alistair. She wanted something of me, and I felt it was asking too much, so I told her no and she left. That's it."_

_ "You just seem a bit too distracted for that to really be it," he whispers, his thumb tracing the edges of the burn scars that wrap around the lower left side of my abdomen._

_ "I'm also worrying about... about what Riordan said," I admit._

_ He nods. "Me, too. What if he can't reach the archdemon? Or we reach it first?" He pulls me closer until my side is pressed against his chest. "Maker, Rahna, I don't want to lose you."_

_ "Nor I you." I push myself up to press a soft kiss against his lips before snuggling back into his chest. "We need to get to sleep, Alistair. I'm sure everything will be fine..."_

**oOo**

"Commander! Commander, wake up!" The frantic voice interrupts my dreams long before morning.

Still tired, and more than a little sad due to the memory, I sit up with a groan and eye the nervous guardsman standing in front of me grumpily. "What?"

"The darkspawn are still breaking through!"

I frown. _That doesn't make any sense..._ "Breaking through where?" I demand as I rub sleep-and tears-out of my eyes and rake back my tangled hair.

"The inn, they're coming from the inn somehow!" he replies, anxiety written all over his face.

_The smugglers' tunnel. The darkspawn are using the smuggling tunnel. _"Calm down," I admonish him. "I'll gather my Wardens and we'll see to the darkspawn and the inn. You can stay here and protect the survivors, alright?"

He nods, swallowing hard. "Y-Yes, Commander."

**oOo**

"You alright, Rahna?" Anders asks when I find him.

I nod. " 'M fine. Why?"

He shrugs, trying to hide a yawn. "You just look like you've been crying."

"And _you_ look like you didn't get any sleep," I shoot back, raising an eyebrow at the mage.

"B'cause I didn't..." he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"An_ders_! I told you to make sure you got some rest!" I huff out an exasperated sigh.

"Rahna, I couldn't _not_ help them," he protests, glancing toward the room in the chantry that's become the infirmary. "Besides, the dreams were bad enough, I couldn't sleep anyway."

"Ah. You gonna be alright, then?" If I remember correctly, this makes two days he's gone without much-if any-sleep. "The last thing I need is my healer dropping in the middle of a fight."

He gives me a tired smile. "Just get me some lyrium and I'll be fine, boss. Promise. I can sleep when all the darkspawn are dead."

I chuckle at that. "Sigrun and Stroud are already waiting near the doors. I think she has all the lyrium potions."

He nods. "Right."

**oOo**

I feel _really_ bad taking Nathaniel away from Delilah and Vi, especially since both of them look so worried, but I need him. Aside from the fact I've never met a better archer, he's also better at disarming traps than either me or Sigrun.

"Be safe," Delilah whispers as she gives her brother one final hug.

Nathaniel hesitates, sighs, and replies, "I'll try."

She wants more of a promise than that, I can tell by the look in her eyes as we leave, but the simple reality of things is that we _can't_ promise anything more than to try and come back.

"You all ready?" I ask once we're all together, and receive a round of nods in response. "Alright, according to the city guards, the darkspawn are breaking through out of the inn."

Nathaniel frowns. "The smugglers' tunnel?"

"That's my guess, yes," I nod in response. "So let's see what kind of damage we can cause." I grin, a half-crazy, half-mischievous expression Anders and Sigrun both mirror as I nod at the guard commander to opens the chantry doors. We have to be quick; there are Childers and hurlocks literally on the doorstep of the chantry itself.

_Here we go..._ I think to myself as Sigrun, Stroud, and I all charge toward the darkspawn, a lightning spell and an arrow both flying past before we even reach the closest of the hurlocks. _Bring it on._

_A/N: And to think I was worried about how I was ever going to make this as long as Aftermath. xD When it takes almost five whole pages to cover, what, a minute of the game, I don't think there's any cause for alarm on that front. =P Hopefully there will be more action next time. And I'll remember to write everybody while in combat. xD Oh, and I really, really like Delilah. She's such a** sister**(which probably only makes sense if you either are a sister or have one...)._


	62. Pressing On

62. Pressing On

The darkspawn are relentless. And it doesn't help matters that there's both a hurlock alpha and an emissary waiting in the group outside the chantry doors. I hear Anders swear under his breath and the blue light of a mana clash spell surrounds the emissary. It doesn't quite kill the things, however, which lead to a louder curse from the blond mage as he flings a lightning spell at it. That does it.

With a smirk of satisfaction, Anders turns to help Nathaniel and Stroud with the mob of Childers crowding up the stairs, leaving the alpha for me and Sigrun to take care of. Since she has heavier armor out of the two of us, the dwarf automatically moves to draw the beast's attention. She ducks under its clumsy battleaxe, shoving one shoulder against its chest to drive it back from the rest of its kind, dodging away before it can do anything to her. The hurlock, of course, is infuriated by this nimble, nearly untouchable opponent and focuses more tightly on Sigrun, allowing me a clear shot at some of its more vulnerable areas. I wait until it's swung at Sigrun again, the motion leaving the hollow under one arm exposed, and ram one of my swords into the gap, right below the creature's shoulder blade. It pulls its elbow back with a roar of pain, the spiked armor colliding with my face hard enough to make my nose bleed. I can't tell if it's broken, but even if it is... the alpha's still dangerous. Even though I know it has to be choking on its own blood by this point, its death throes are taking a while to weaken it.

"Commander, look out!" Sigrun shoves past me to bury her axe in the head of a Childer grub creeping up behind me. The thing lets out a piercing squeal before twitching and then lying still. The dwarf's charge leaves her vulnerable to the dying alpha, however, and I can't get in the gap quickly enough.

"Sigrun!" Even as I holler her name, the alpha pulls back to swing at her, and Anders flings a spell of some sort at it. Whatever he did slows the alpha enough that even when its battleaxe crashes down on Sigrun's shoulder, it doesn't penetrate her armor. She still lets out an angry yelp of pain and whips around to bury her dirk in the thing's neck as it stumbles to its knees.

"I'll be feelin' that one for a while..." she mutters, wincing as she rolls her shoulder.

"How bad?" I pant as we head toward the fresh group of Childers that burst out of the inn.

"Just bruises, I think, thanks to whatever Anders did. That slowed it down. Thanks, blondie."

He shoots her a tired grin. "My pleasure."

"What was that, anyway?" I ask.

"Paralyzing spell. Sometimes alphas manage to resist the full effect-like that one-but it still slows them up. I figured it couldn't hurt to try. Y'know, Rahna, I really should take care of your nose," he points out, looking concerned.

I rub the heel of one hand gingerly across my face, and it comes away sticky with a good amount of blood. "Not really time right now," I retort, nodding at the charging darkspawn. "Maybe after they're dead."

"I'll hold you to that, boss. We can't have you passing out when you're supposed to be in charge," he teases.

I wrinkle my nose at him-which hurts-before spinning to block the flailing claws of an adult Childer. I slash at its head, but this thing is fast, and instead of killing it, I just shear off one of the limbs it throws up to protect itself. I do distract it long enough for Stroud to run it through, however. The thing lets out a choked shriek before going limp and the warrior tugs his sword free of the corpse just in time to block another of its kind as it attacks him.

_Maker, would a short break be too much to ask for?_ I plead mentally as I help him dispatch the creature. The answer is apparently yes, because even as we finish off the Childer, a hurlock sniper barrels around the corner and stops near the fence across the road. It has its bow out and is nocking an arrow by the time we notice it. I see it eyeing Anders and curse under my breath before hollering for him to_ move_. This is my biggest problem with the darkspawn here; there's smarter than the ones I fought during the Blight, they know to pick off mages before anyone else, then archers, then the rest of us. It's... kind of unnerving to see them display this level of intelligence. However, even as the hurlock starts to draw back the bowstring, Nathaniel nocks an arrow and whips off a shot. His arrow buries half of its length in the hurlock's eye.

Considering the thing's wearing armor, including a helmet, I can't help but gape just a little as its corpse flops to the ground. "Sweet Bride of the Maker..." I have to roll my eyes at myself. _You would think, having fought alongside him as many times as I have, I wouldn't be surprised the man's a damn good shot._

"Look out!" I don't even have time to register who exactly hollers the warning before a Childer-larger and stronger than the others we've killed-comes tearing out of the inn and knocks me and Stroud aside as it charges toward Anders.

_**Not**__ my healer!_ I scramble to my feet, collecting my dropped swords, and lunge after it. I'm a hair too slow, and its outer hide is tough enough Nathaniel's arrow doesn't penetrate deeply enough to deter it from slamming the mage to the ground. "We have to get at its belly!" I yell to Sigrun as we try to get it off Anders. It's harder than it should be, and I'm getting more and more frantic watching its claws scrabble against the silver armor Anders is wearing because I know the longer it goes, the better the chances it'll actually do some serious damage. Him being my friend aside, there's still too much left to do for me to lose my bloody healer.

Finally, however, Anders manages to get one foot up under the thing and kicks it off. The Childer goes reeling backwards, and Sigrun, Nathaniel and I all take full advantage of that. It doesn't stand a chance against all of us.

When I turn back to Anders, Stroud is offering him a hand up, which he accepts. "Y'know, Rahna, one thing you failed to mention is that wearing armor like this makes it bloody impossible to get up on your own," he grumbles teasingly, making a face at me as the warrior hauls him to his feet.

I roll my eyes. "You're still alive, aren't you? 'Sides, I've never worn anything heavier than leather, so how was I supposed to know?"

"You've fought with warriors before, though. You mean to tell me Alistair never wound up on his back?"

"Not during battle," I shoot back with a mischievous grin.

He raises an eyebrow at me and ruffles my hair. "You little minx."

My grin just gets wider. "And proud of it."

"Here, now that there's nothing trying to kill us, let me see your nose," he directs as the others start checking the hurlock corpses for anything of value.

"Oh, right. That." I tip up my chin willingly. Now that I have no distractions, like stuff trying to kill me, it does hurt an awful lot. "Ouch!" I yelp when Anders gingerly touches it.

"Sorry." He starts summoning a healing spell.

"It broken?" I ask, trying to smother the desire to wrench away.

He nods. "Not too badly, but yeah. Good thing you already had enough adrenaline flowing through you to distract you, or you would've been out of that fight..."

"I'm sure you would've managed without me," I joke, letting out a sigh of relief as the healing spell does its work. "Thanks. You might want to make sure Sigrun's alright; I know that alpha hit her harder than she's letting on. And I think we've got a lot of work ahead of us."

"Right." He nods. "You know she's going to pull out that excuse about dwarves being magic resistant so I can't really do much for her, right?"

I laugh. "Try anyway. Every little bit helps." As he heads for the dwarf, I walk over to where Nathaniel's stripping the nearly full quiver of arrows from the sniper's corpse.

"Beggers can't be choosers, Commander," he comments when he sees the look I'm giving him. "I'm running low." He pulls out one of the arrows and looks at it closely. "And these are better than mine; they're poison-tipped."

"Ooh, even better," I mutter sarcastically. "There's a certain level of delightful irony to killing darkspawn with their own weapons."

He chuckles. "Hadn't thought about it like that before."

"Surely you know by now I'm very good at thinking about things in ways normal people don't," I tease.

That earns me a wry grin. "True. But we should be pressing on, shouldn't we?"

"Anders is checking on Sigrun, making sure she's not too badly hurt from that damned alpha. Once he's done that we can go."

"Than let's go," Sigrun interjects. "We're all done, and _Ancestors_ am I in the mood to kill darkspawn."

I laugh. "Alright, alright. Let's go."

**oOo**

All of us are on the alert as we enter the inn, and it's a good thing too. There are a pair of genlock archers, a Childer grub, and a darkspawn in black and red armor who looks an awful lot like the First and other ones I've seen who could talk waiting for us. Sigrun and I immediately head for the genlocks, and Nathaniel takes care of the Childer with a single arrow.

_Damn, that poison is bloody helpful_, I can't help but think as I decapitate one of the genlocks. Sigrun guts the other at the same time, and then all five of us turn our attention to the one I figure must be a general. It roars and swings at Anders and Nathaniel with its battleaxe, but both of them dodge out of the way, and Stroud charges into the opening, ramming the pommel of his greatsword against the darkspawn's face hard enough to make it stagger backwards a few steps. It lets out a howl that sounds halfway between rage and pain before turning tail and retreating up the steps.

We all follow. Despite everything in me screaming this is the perfect setup for an ambush, we don't really have a choice. The entrance to the smugglers' tunnel is concealed up here. More Childers rush forward out of a couple of the rooms as we reach the top of the steps, slowing us down.

Even as we fight our way through them, I see the general holding its hands in front of it, a suspicious orange glow forming between its palms. _That thing's a mage too? Damn it all, any more surprises for me tonight?_ There's nowhere for us to run if that thing's about to do what I think it is, but I still find myself screaming, _"Move!"_ as the darkspawn flings its hands forward, launching a fireball in our direction. Nathaniel and I dodge into the alcove at the top of the steps, and Anders manages to duck back around the blind corner across from us, but Sigrun and Stroud are both caught out in the open.

Anders casts an ice spell as soon as he can; in close confines like this, the shockwave from a fireball is pretty powerful. The flames struggle for a few seconds, licking at the walls, the floor, Sigrun and Stroud's armor, before dying out.

"That the best you've got?" the dwarf taunts as she charges the darkspawn general, ducking under a swing of its axe and burying her dirk in the side of its neck. The general roars in pain and bats her away, apparently still having plenty of fight left in it. Stroud's the closest out the rest of us, and he rushes to join Sigrun, ramming his greatsword through the darkspawn's gut as if its armor was made from cloth.

It lets out a final choked gurgle before collapsing in a limp pile on the ground. Sigrun smirks in satisfaction and spits on the corpse as she retrieves her dirk.

"Take that, bastard," she mutters, rifling through the pouches that hang from the darkspawn's belt.

"Sig, what're you doing?" I ask, raising and eyebrow at her.

"Looking for lyrium potions," she explains. "We're... well, not low, but gettin' there. And if this thing was casting, I thought maybe... ha!" She breaks off with an exclaimation of triumph as she wrestles a few large flasks of lyrium out of different pouches. "I know Anders hasn't gotten much sleep the last couple nights-"

"None," the mage interrupts. "Damn nightmares..."

She winces and offers him one of the potions as she shoves the others into her backpack. "Need this, then?"

"Can't hurt," Anders mutters, accepting the flask. He thumbs out the stopper and gulps down the whole thing in few enough swallows Nathaniel and I trade worried looks behind his back.

_Having my healer so barely holding it together can't possibly be a good thing..._ "Anders, you sure you're gonna be alright?" I ask.

He nods, wincing at the taste of the potion. "I'll be fine, Rahna. I promise. Besides, there's not really anything to be done except keep going. I'm not going to be able to get sleep until the bloody darkspawn are gone, anyway."

"Point," I concede with a sigh. He's right, and I know it. "Then lets kill these bastards and maybe you can get a decent night's sleep before we go after the Mother."

He presses the heel of one hand to his forehead, as if fighting a headache. "Sounds like a plan."

In my rush I almost forget to ask. "What about you two? You alright?" Sigrun and Stroud both nod.

"We're fine, Commander," the Legionnaire promises, despite the fact I can see some awful sensitive-looking blisters from the heat spreading across her cheek.

"Sig." I raise an eyebrow.

"Swear by my Ancestors, Commander. This is nothing, trust me." She gestures at the blisters before looking at Anders. "So don't even try to heal it. I'm fine, and you need to save your strength for if we really need it."

Anders raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I won't."

"Stroud? You alright?"

He nods. "I am fine, Commander."

I can't see any reason to disbelieve him, so I head for the room in the back that I know conceals the smugglers' tunnel, the rest of them close behind me. We needs to finish this, for the sake of Anders' sanity if nothing else.

Sigrun takes up a rear-guard position in the doorway, watching for more darkspawn as Stroud and Nathaniel haul open the trapdoor.

"Everybody all set?" I ask, and get a round of nods in answer.

"As I'll ever be..." Anders mutters.

I let out a wry chuckle at that. "Then let's get this over with." I lead the way into the smuggling tunnel, swords drawn and-hopefully-ready for anything.

_A/N: At least they made some progress... Oy. At this rate, it'll take ten chapters just to get to fighting the Mother. xD I'm gonna have to condense some stuff, I think, just so this doesn't drag on forever... And I can't remember if I've put any kind of explanation type thing in about Anders getting the nightmares so much worse than anybody else... It's not just me being mean to Anders or anyhting. In short, I headcanon that mage Wardens have more trouble with the darkspawn dreams because they have a stronger connection to the Fade thanks to their magic. That's why Miri has the really bad dreams, too(like waaaaay back in ch 5 I think it was). I haven't really gotten to touch on it yet with Jowan, but they're also worse for him._


	63. Clean Up

63. Clean-Up

The first section of the tunel is clear, completely empty of enemies, though it does show plenty of evidence that they've been through here.

"I don't like this, Commander," Nathaniel mutters.

"Me, neither," I hiss in a whisper. I can sense the darkspawn so strongly it's almost making my head spin, but there's none to be seen.

"That makes three of us," Sigrun adds. "I mean, what're they doin'? Grouping for another charge, or was that the last of them up in the inn, or what?"

"I'm leaning toward the former," I reply. "'Cause I can still sense 'em, so I know there's some left."

She frowns. "They do that? They're not usually that organized..."

"The darkspawn here are _special_, remember, love?" Anders chips in, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I have to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from busting out laughing. "Yes, plotting is a very rare trait among darkspawn."

As we near the underground dock, Nathaniel grabs my arm, halting our progress down the tunnel. "Hold on a moment, Commander."

Because I trust him implicitly, we do just that, and the rest of us wait a yard or two back from the tunnel's end as he continues forward, a cautious edge in his step that tells me he's looking for a tripwire. I can tell when he finds it because he stops, rests his bow against the wall, and pulls out his dagger to help with disarming the mechanism. After a minute of two of careful work, the trap disengages with a loud _click_, and we hear an answering growl from the darkspawn ahead.

_They were waiting for us._ I charge forward, passing Nathaniel as he nocks and fires an arrow.

"Commander, look out!" The archer's warning comes too late, and I catch a chunk of rock bigger than my head square in the chest. In knocks the breath out of my lungs and sends me flying backwards until I bounce off one of the support posts hard enough to make me see spots.

"Andraste's_ knickerweasels_!" Anders is summoning a mana clash spell even as the vehement curse passes his lips, and I see the darkspawn general falter as the full power of the spell crashes down on it.

Stroud pauses to haul me up before rushing to help Sigrun with the line of genlocks along one side of the room, and Nathaniel focuses on taking care of the Childers that are present.

"_Watch out_!" It hurts to yell the warning as loudly as I do, which makes me think the stonefist broke a rib or two when it hit me, but I can see the lightning spell building around the darkspawn general's hands. That spell looks too powerful to be meant for one person, but if it is, they're as good as dead. A fact which makes me very uncomfortable, given the way said darkspawn is eyeing Nathaniel. Even the crushing prison of magical energy Anders calls up to surround it doesn't seems to be deterring the mage from inflicting as much damage as it can. And Nathaniel's too intent on his next target to notice. "_Nate_!"_Holy Andraste, that hurts..._ The pain hits hard enough to make me dizzy.

But it's worth it; Nathaniel turns from the Childer he was focusing on and instead looses his arrow at the mage. Given how rushed a shot it is, I'm not surprised it's not fatal. But it does slam into the darkspawn's shoulder with enough force to interrupt its concentration and cause it to lose the spell. Before it can recover, Stroud slices it open from shoulder to waist.

They finish off the other darkspawn in the cavern quickly enough, even without me. My ribs hurt too much for me to be much good in a fight. As the last of the genlocks falls dead, Anders rapidly crosses to where I'm still leaning against the rough wooden post.

"Told... mmph... told you you could manage without me," I grit out as another rush of pain flares through my chest.

"I think Nathaniel would disagree, Rahna," the mage shoots back. "Now, what broke this time?"

I try to laugh at his mildly scolding tone, wince, and gingerly rub the left half of my rib cage as I slide down to sit on the cold ground. "I think just a rib or two."

"Is that all, boss?" He raises an eyebrow at me. "You're gonna have to take off your armor so I can see what needs fixing."

"Anders, you're already bordering on exhaustion," I protest as the others move off to guard the far entrance. "Can't you just... I dunno... do wh-what you can as is and I'll try to manage?"

He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Can't _you_ stop being so damned stubborn for two minutes, Rahna? You were no bloody good for combat three seconds ago; d'you really want the same to be true if we run into an ogre?"

"No..." I mutter with a sigh as I start undoing buckles on my armor. "I just don't want you stretching yourself too thin, that's all."

"I appreciate the concern, boss." He chuckles and brushes rebellious locks of hair out of my face, tilting my chin up so I meet his eyes. "But I know my limits. Cross m'heart."

"That's good," I shoot back as I discard the chestpiece from my armor. "'Cause if you push yourself too far and wind up gettin' killed, I'll have Velanna bring you back just so's I can kill you again."

**oOo**

It's no easy task getting through the rest of the tunnel, even after Anders pours enough magic into healing my sodding ribs that the dark circles under his eyes nearly double in size and he has to get another lyrium potion from Sigrun. The tunnel is nearly choking on darkspawn; hurlocks, genlocks, even a few shrieks, and we find ourselves fighting tooth and nail for every foot of progress. The quarters are so close under here that Nathaniel's forced to switch from using his bow to the two daggers he carries on his belt. While he's still _good_, it's nowhere near what he can do with a bow, which I know frustrates him even more than it does me. Additionally, Anders has to be careful what spells he uses; wouldn't want him accidentally frying one of us instead of the darkspawn.

Finally, however, we do reach the far end of the tunnel. Nathaniel and Stroud push open the trapdoor, and we all climb out into the ramshackle house that hides the passage from view to those on the road.

"Wait here; I'm gonna go see if I can't figure out what we're up against," I whisper, already moving before Sigrun or Nathaniel can protest that they should do it instead. If there's one thing I am decidedly better at than either of them, it's being stealthy. Which, considering how I _met_ Nathaniel, is saying a lot. The area outside is pretty open, so my scouting trip doesn't take long, and I'm back in just a few minutes. "There's another of those generals out there," I grumble. "A mage by the look of it."

"I can take care of him easy enough," Anders points out.

"And how much does that mana clash thing take out of you?" I demand, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs. "A good bit, but if I can bloody kill that thing, isn't it worth it?"

"Considering that the other thing waiting for us is an armored ogre, no. I don't think so. I'm gonna need you able to help with that, too. And if you've worn yourself out on the emissary, that can't happen," I shoot back, crossing my arms.

"Rahna, it's not like it completely drains me of mana," he protests. "I said 'a good bit' not 'all of it'."

"Y'know what your problem is?" Sigrun chips in. "You're both stubborn as stone." This earns wry chuckles from Nathaniel and Stroud.

"She has a point, Commander," Stroud agrees. "From what I've seen, that is most likely a root of your problem."

"If not the only one," the dwarf adds, still grinning.

"And our solution?" I ask her, fighting back a laugh myself.

She shrugs. "I guess it comes down to you being the boss, since I can't see you two compromising in time."

"You heard the lady." I grin at Anders, who shoots Sigrun a mock glare.

"Traitor," he mutters.

"Hey, you don't know what I gonna say yet." I lightly punch his arm, my fist making his armor rattle. "If you think it's worth the risk, go ahead. But we really will need you for the ogre. That thing's armored to the Void and back; which means a large number of normally weak points ain't weak. Magic's going to play a big part in bringing it down. Just keep that in mind."

"Will do, _boss_." He shoots me a cheeky grin. "Now, let me at 'em."

**oOo**

Anders, of course, gambles on using the mana clash spell, like I knew he would. Lucky for us, it's a gamble that pays off. The darkspawn mage drops dead without any fight whatsoever. Even as Sigrun and I creep around the outside edge of the clearing between houses to see if it has anything useful on it, I hear the ogre roar and know it saw us.

_Oh, damn... Well, here we go._ I change course and charge toward the ogre with a yell. It swings one massive hand at me, and I duck and roll underneath, keeping its attention while Sigrun and Stroud get close enough to help inflict damage. The thing's armor frosts over with an ice spell, causing its movements to become jerky and sluggish. Sigrun takes advantage of this; darting behind the monster to slice open the unprotected backs of its knees.

It roars and swats clumsily at her, which she deftly avoids, before deciding to take out its anger on those of us it can see. Namely, me.

"Commander, move!" Stroud grabs my arm and jerks me backwards as the huge beast slams one fist down on the ground where I'd been standing. I nod my thanks as we circle out of the of another swing. Stroud must see an opening, because he charges forward, spinning under the blow the ogre aims at him, and plunges his greatsword into the thing's hip, just inside the cracks in its armor.

The ogre bellows in pain, jerking away so violently it takes Stroud's sword with it, yanking the weapon out of his hands before snatching the warrior off the ground. I'm wincing even before the first slam of the ogre's fist against Stroud's armor. I hear the warrior grunt in pain as I wheel around, looking for my mage.

"Anders!" I holler. Even with how fast he summons an ice spell in response, the ogre's managed to pummel Stroud a few more times. The warrior is hanging limply in the ogre's hand as ice crusts over its armor and skin. The creature roars and throws him at Sigrun. Despite her best efforts to dodge, there's a loud clatter of metal on metal as the ogre's aim proves better than decent and the warrior collides with the dwarf, sending them both tumbling.

With two of my Wardens out of the fight, even temporarily, this is not looking good. I swear under my breath and deepen the gashes Sigrun already carved across the backs of the ogre's knees. It lets out another pained bellow, which only gets louder when one of Nathnaiel's arrows buries half its length in the slender gap between the thing's neck and the collar of its armor. The beast sways, losing blood and its balance at the same time, as Sigrun manages to extricate herself from Stroud's limp form and charges back toward it. The ogre makes a feeble swipe at her as she leaps up, one hand latching on to the collar of its armor as the other drives her dirk into its throat. When the ogre lets out a gurgling-and much weaker-roar, she yanks the dirk free and rams it into the underside of the thing's jaw, the blade angled up and back.

The ogre crashes down with enough force I feel the ground tremble. Her armor splattered with blood and a huge smirk curving her lips, Sigrun jumps off the monstrous corpse. "Another one down. We do good work, Commander."

I chuckle. "That we do." I turn to check on the others as civilians start to come out of hiding. Nathaniel's fine, and Anders just looks tired as he kneels next to Stroud. "Is he-"

"He's still alive. Barely." Anders sighs, dragging one-shaky, I can't help but notice-hand through his hair. "Sigrun, love, I'm going to need another of those lyrium potions b'fore I can even start healing him."

_I told you not to push yourself too far, _I can't help but think as Sigrun tosses him another good-sized flask, the bright blue liquid sloshing as the mage gulps it down.

"Maker, I swear, the more you need it the worse these taste," he mutters around a grimace.

"Just take care of Stroud and then you get some rest." I give him a lopsided smile. "That's an order."

His return smile is tired. "Aye, aye, Commander."

Satisfied he's doing what he can for Stroud, I turn my attention to Captain Garevel, who's waiting nearby to give me his report. "Captain."

He bows briefly, looking pleased. "Commander, the darkspawn are retreating. The city is safe."

I sigh in relief, glad to have at least one worry off my mind. Of course, that means the other one, the one teasing the back of my mind the entire time I was fighting darkspawn here, comes roaring back into focus. "And... how's the Vigil? Do you know?"

"We... haven't heard much, Commander," he replies hesitantly. "But what we have heard is... not good."

A tight feeling that's a lot like dread siezes my gut. _No. They're fine. Jowan and Gabriel and Kiv and Varel... They're all fine. If I managed to stay optimistic about Delilah, I can do the same for them, and by the Maker, I will. _My stubborn determination to think the best collides with the dread in my stomach and twists it in knots.

"Commander, the Architect's messenger has given us directions to the Mother's lair," Garevel continues. "We must pursue her."

"Oh, I'll see to her, don't worry," I retort, feeling a very familiar fury well up under the other emotions, honing and focusing everything I'm feeling into one very clear goal. "But we need to rest first. Anders is on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, Stroud nearly got killed, and the rest of us... well, sleep would do us all some good before we set out."

He nods. "Very well, Commander. Oh, what should we do with the messenger?"

I bite my lip and think for a second before shaking my head. "I'm too tired to think straight right now, Captain. Hold it for now, and I'll decide after I've had some sleep."

"As you say," he defers, and I lead a very weary, some half-dead, group of Wardens back to the Chantry for some rest before we sodding finish this.

_A/N: Maker, every time I write Rahna and Anders bantering a part of me dies inside, because I know what's gonna happen with him. I love their banters, but seriously... knowing the future sucks. :C Also, I decided to let Sigrun have shot at being super-duper awesome this chapter, since I mostly give those moments to Rahna/Anders/Nathaniel. xD _


	64. Healing

64. Healing

...

_Never thought not having you _

_here now would hurt so much..._

_every night I miss you _

_I can just look up and know the stars are _

_holdin' you, holdin' you, holdin' you tonight _

...

_"You know this isn't going to be easy, right, love?" Alistair's question hangs in the still air of the Fade as I approach._

_ I nod, sitting next to him on the weathered log he's made his seat, sitting close enough our shoulders touch but resisting the urge to snuggle into his chest. "I know. But we can do it. They're... They're a good team, and we work well together. I wouldn't have brought them otherwise."_

_ He smiles. "Same old Rahna. Willing to take on anything so long as you trust the people who have your back."_

_ I shrug. "Someone's gotta do it. Apparently 'someone' means me." I look up at him. "Honestly, though, I wish I could just tell the four of them to handle it and go back to the Vigil. I... I hate not knowing. And it has nothing-or not too much-to do with me being curious by nature," I hastily tack on the end, followed by a sigh as I look back at the fire. " I guess I'm a bit of a hypocrite, huh? After all the times I told Nate to not give up hope about Delilah, I'm really honestly scared of what I might've lost if things are as bad as I'm hearing."_

_ "Why don't you, then?" Alistair asks, one hand rubbing sympathetic, soothing circles on my back._

_ I shake my head. "Because Stroud nearly got killed by that ogre, and if he's not back to one hundred percent by the time we're ready to go, I'm going to have to leave him here. I couldn't tell three Wardens-and relatively new ones at that-to go handle something like this just 'cause I'm worried I may have lost a friend or two..."_

_ "Don't feel guilty for caring, love," Alistair admonishes, pressing a kiss against my temple. I close my eyes and bite my lip, shoving down the surge of emotion in my chest._

_ "Maker, Alistair, I still miss you..." I whisper, my voice cracking as I turn to look at him._

_ "But not as much as you used to," he finishes for me, laying a finger against my lips when I start to protest. "No, Rahna, that's a good thing. Progress. Just because it's starting to heal doesn't mean you didn't love me or that what we had wasn't real, it just means you're healing. And I'm glad for that, even if you aren't."_

_ "Does healing mean forgetting you? Because I don't want to."_

_ "Of course not, love." He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer. "And I know you don't want to. But... if it happens, don't beat youself up. Time has a way of dulling things whether we want them dulled or not."_

_ I raise an eyebrow at him. "When did you get so... deep?"_

_ He chuckles. "Thanks a lot."_

_ "No, that's not what I meant," I mutter. "You just...weren't so experienced in affairs of the heart before..." I let it trail off._

_ "Death has a way of granting new perspectives," he comments drily. "Ironic, isn't it?"_

_ I nod. "Tell me about it."_

_ He gently uncurls my fingers, slipping his between them. "Getting back to the original topic... I guess my point is just be careful. Please?"_

_ "I'll try, Alistair. You know that's the best I can promise."_

_ He nods and kissed the back of my hand. "Then that'll have to do, won't it?"_

**oOo**

An unbroken night's sleep works wonders, even if it involved a quasi-realistic dream of my dead lover. I'm honestly amazed that I wake up entirely on my own; not because some frantic messenger has burst in with a problem to be dealt with or a crisis that I have to resolve. I manage to enjoy this fact for all of five seconds before I start fretting about wasted time. _The sooner we've dealt with the Mother, the sooner we can go back to the Vigil._

I roll out of bed and pull on my armor-which someone cleaned during the night, I notice-and fix my hair in two loose pigtails, as always, before heading out to the main hall of the Chantry. Sigrun and Nathaniel are sitting on a bench near the door, the dwarf sharpening her dirk and the archer checking over his bow. They both look up as I emerge.

"Morning, Commander," Sigrun greets me with a cheery wave before returning her attention to her dirk.

"Morning," I chuckle, leaning against the wall next to them.

"Sleep well?" Nathaniel asks, glancing up briefly.

"Very," I nod, rolling my shoulders lazily against the wall. "What time is it anyway?" When Sigrun tells me, I nearly panic. _We've lost an hour or two of daylight when we could've been heading for the Mother's lair!_ "Why didn't someone wake me up hours ago?" I demand as I shove away from the wall, planning to go wake Anders and Stroud, check if the latter is up to fighting and then sodding _go_.

"Because I told them not to," Nathaniel replies, grabbing my arm to keep me from charging off.

"Again,_ why_?" I tug my arm free but don't go anywhere. I'm too busy glaring at the archer. "We need to track down the Mother-"

"And you needed sleep," he counters calmly. "Almost as badly as Anders. I could see it in your eyes, Rahna."

"But still, _you told them _not to wake me?"

He shrugs, smirking ever so slightly. "You're the one who wants to make me your right-hand man."

"I- You-" I fight down the urge to really lay into him because I know he's right. About both me needing sleep and wanting him as my right-hand man. I settle for growling in frustration and leaning back against the wall again. "Maker's breath, Nate... I hate it when you're right." I fix him with a mock glare as I hear Sigrun giggle.

He chuckles. "Shall I try to be wrong more often in the future, then?"

"No! Could you maybe be a bit less smug about being right, though?"

"I'll try," he replies, the words edged in another soft chuckle.

"We really should get going soon, though," I point out. "Sooner we can take care of the Mother the better."

"She has a point, Nathaniel," Sigrun comments, sheathing her dirk. "You want me to go poke Anders for you, Commander? So you can check in with Stroud?"

"That sounds good, Sig," I agree. After she's headed off toward where Anders is sleeping and is well out of earshot, I look back at Nathaniel. "Thanks. The extra couple hours of sleep _was _nice," I admit.

"You're welcome, Commander."

**oOo**

My checking in on Stroud doesn't take long, as the warrior immediately-albeit reluctantly-admits he's not going to be up for chasing down the Mother.

"Even though there's a few day's travel between us and her?" I remind him. "You'd have more time to get back your full strength."

He nods, looking pained. "That is another problem, Commander. You will want to travel fast, as you should, and I could not keep up the pace that would be necessary."

I frown in confusion. "Anders nearly killed himself all the power he put into healing you, I thought."

Stroud nods. "He did, Commander, and I owe him my life, I realize this. But magic can only do so much. There is a time factor as well, and that is something that we-that _you_ simply cannot afford right now. Unless you really believe my presence would be necessary to defeat this Mother, I feel it would be best if I did not go."

I sigh. "Okay, if you're sure. You can stay here until you feel up to traveling, and then return to the Vigil."

"Yes, Commander." He offers a formal bow. "Maker's speed on your journey and protection upon reaching your goal."

I smile. "Thank you. I have a feeling I'll need it. Hope you're all better soon."

"My thanks, Commander." Stroud smiles in return as I leave the room to see if the others are ready to go. Nathaniel's waiting near the front doors of the Chantry, but Sigrun and Anders are nowhere to be seen.

"She's helping him with the armor," the archer explains before I can even open my mouth to ask where they are. "They should be out shortly."

"Ah. Thanks." I lean against the wall nearby as we wait, silent until my curiosity gets the better of me. "Nate?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Out of curiosity; if you're the one who told everybody to let me sleep, would you also happen to know who took care of my armor? I know I was too bloody tired to clean it off last night."

"Delilah couldn't sleep. Too busy worrying about how much of what happened she should tell Albert, and how Vi's going to hold up, and a dozen other things only she could think of to worry about. So when she noticed you'd been too tired to clean your armor, she decided to take care of it, keep herself busy and her mind off worrying."

"Ah. She did a good job," I comment.

"She used to clean Thomas' all the time for him because he'd 'forget'."

I raise an eyebrow at the undertone that says the forgetting may have been intentional. "That's a good sister you have there."

"I know," he replies quietly as Sigrun and Anders emerge from where the mage slept last night. I'm beyond relieved that Anders looks like he's back to normal; the huge circles under his eyes are gone, and his grin looks far less forced than it did last night.

"Time to go save the world?" he teases, tugging one of my pigtails as he and Sigrun join us.

_Yep. Definitely back to normal._ "Well, maybe not the whole world," I retort, grinning as I swat his hand away. "Just part of it."

"Good enough," he shrugs, the movement shifting the pack he has slung over one shoulder. There's an indignant _mew_ and Pounce sticks his head out.

"Anders, you brought your cat?" I shoot him an incredulous look. "Weren't you the one protesting that we get in 'dangerous scraps' when I offered to let you keep him?"

He nods, reaching back to calm the tawny cat. "I didn't mean to. He snuck into my pack when we left the Vigil, and I didn't notice until that first night when we made camp. It was too late to do anything about him being there, so I just... didn't say anything, either."

"Ah. You planning to bring him with us?" I raise an eyebrow at the mage.

Anders nods again. "He... helps. With healing," he explains. "I don't even understand it, alright? Last night's the first time it happened." Pounce lets out a proud _meow_.

"Like, he's magic?" I'm confused. Very, very confused.

"Oh, Maker, I shouldn't've said anything," Anders mutters. "Not exactly. He only helped with healing, and only when I was really pushing it. You told me to heal Stroud," he points out when I open my mouth to say something about him pushing himself too hard. "I'll be happy to discuss what little I know about my cat, but can we please get going?"

"Good plan," I agree, and we're off.

**oOo**

The location the Messenger gave us for the Mother's lair is about three days of hard travel from the city, and Sigrun and I spend most of the first day pestering Anders about Pounce's "magic". The best he can tell us in return is that the cat seems to have the ability to heal-or at least help heal-people.

"Well, that could really come in handy," I mutter. "Y'know, in some long fight, if you're starting to run low on mana, Pounce can help with healing. I still wish I knew how he did that."

"Trust me, so do I," Anders replies. "I can just see the Chantry calling him a demon and wanting to execute him."

Pounce lets out an injured-sounding _mioaw_ of indignation.

"I would never let them do that, kitty! Swear!" the mage assures him.

"They already think the Grey Wardens harbor thieves and maleficarum, what's a demon cat in the mix?" I chuckle.

"Don't we?" Anders shoots back, raising an eyebrow at me. "Isn't Jowan-"

"In name only," I cut him off. "He hasn't used blood magic since I met him."

"Rahna, love, blood magic is a once-for-all choice. The Chantry finds him, they won't care if he last used it last week or ten years ago. A maleficar is a maleficar. Always." He snorts. "And an apostate is usually also a maleficar. That's just the way they work."

"You're both _Wardens_. Rylock and her obsession with you aside, they can't do anything to you. 'Specially not while I'm around." I grin at him. "I have this habit of doing crazy things to protect my friends..."

"Sweet of you," he shoots back airily. "Out of curiosity, Rahna-"

"Uh-oh," I mutter teasingly.

Anders rolls his eyes at me. "Ha, ha, very funny. If you had to pick between keeping me or Jowan-"

"Jowan. He doesn't eat nearly as much as you do," I reply with a smirk. His expression has me and Sigrun laughing so hard we nearly fall over. A small part of my mind is just relieved to have something to focus on that isn't deadly serious. Between strategizing how to defeat the Mother-assuming a direct 'stab her in the face' won't work so easily-and worrying about the Vigil, it's nice to find something to laugh at.

Even if Anders' eyes warn me he's already plotting his revenge.

_A/N: I had to do that. HAD TO. *giggle* Anders was just asking for it, and Rahna was begging me to let her say it, and I figured a moment of levity would be appreciatd-by the characters if nothing else. xD And Nathaniel... I swear, that man's turning into the big brother Rahna never had, as well as shaping into a pretty darn decent "second in command". Character development FTW. The part at the beginning with Alistair was __**really**__ hard to write, I gotta admit, especially because my darn shuffling media player gave me the 2Cellos covers of "Hurt" and "Fragile" along with "My Immortal" by Evanescence while I was writing that part(I would link but ffnet won't let me. You can find 'em on youtube, though). I was sniffling and cursing him for dying all over again. And just when I thought we were making progress... *sigh* _

_Lyrics at the beginning are from "Tonight" by FM Static. _


	65. Nightmares

65. Nightmares

Even pushing ourselves as hard and as fast as we dare to go, it still takes the full three days to reach the place the Architect's messenger told me we could find the Mother's lair. I know we're getting close on the last night out because Anders wakes up screaming from the nightmares-twice. I've been sensing the darkspawn all day; the taint whispering in my mind, vertigo tugging at my senses with a stubborn persistence to rival my own. Anders' nightmares just serve as confirmation to what I already knew: there's a _lot_ of them in this place, whatever it might be. And when we reach our destination the following day, I feel like I've stepped _into_ a nightmare.

The map calls this place Drake's Fall, which seems appropriate. Everywhere I look, the skeletal remains of dragons dot the landscape, which otherwise consists of dirt, rock, and lonely plateaus. Oh, and darkspawn.

The first ones we run into are just more of the grub-like Childer larvae, which don't put up much of a fight against us. But before we've even had a moment to catch our breath and let me try to figure out where we need to go in this Maker-forsaken wasteland, a group of full-grown Childers comes charging up the path towards.

"Ooohhhh, tell me you're joking!" I growl in frustration to the steely grey sky as I meet them head-on, Sigrun just behind me. The first couple fall easily enough, but the ones behind them give us more trouble. It's almost as if they planned their attacks to be as difficult to resist as possible. I hear Anders and Nathaniel both mutter curses under their breath and realize the Childers blend almost perfectly with the terrain, which must make them bloody hard to hit with anything ranged, no matter how good you are.

The moment's distraction that causes as it sinks in proves costly; one of the remaining Childers slams me to the ground and slashes at my face and neck in a frenzy.

Sigrun hollers something that sounds suspiciously like dwarven curse and throws herself at the creature with a kamikaze yell, knocking it off me. Dwarf and darkspawn tumble sideways, and I scramble to my feet to continue the fight. There's still a few other ones left, and I know how Sigrun gets when you try to help her with anything shy of an alpha, ogre or dragon. She's worse about 'kill-stealing' than I am. The Childer I lunge after freezes solid right before I reach it, and I take advantage of that, slamming both swords against it hard enough that it shatters. Simultaneously, the one just behind it lets out an angry squeal before collapsing in a faintly spasming heap, the back inch or so of an arrow jutting out from one of its eyes.

The last one siezes up thanks to the lightning spell Anders throws at it, and I slice it open with the new sword Wade made for me. This thing is so gloriously _sharp_ it makes me nearly giddy. I need to name it.

"You okay?" I ask Sigrun, soon as the thing's corpse has hit the ground.

She nods, grinning. "'Course I am, Commander."

"Thanks for the help. That thing could've killed you," I comment, still breathing hard from the fight, heedless of the blood trickling from a couple shallow gashes thanks to that damn Childer.

She shrugs. "So? I'm already dead, remember?"

"Do you really believe that?" Nathaniel asks, his tone one of idle curiosity as he sets about salvaging as many of his arrows as he can.

"Believe what?" One eyebrow quirks as she looks at the archer.

"That you're... dead."

"_Actually_ dead, no," Sigrun replies cheerily. "_Symbolically_ dead, yeah. I do."

He shoots her a sketical look. "And the difference is...?"

"Several pints of blood," she retorts, still grinning as she picks ichor out of her hair and scrapes it off on a rock. "It's a Legionnaire thing, don't worry if you don't understand."

"I'll take your word for it, then," Nathaniel mutters, frowning in concentration as he tries to work loose an arrow buried particularly deep in between the eyes of one Childer.

I giggle but tune out the rest of their conversation when Anders tugs on my arm. "Rahna, let me see those."

"Yes, ser." I know he means the new scratches marking my face and neck, none of them particularly deep, but all of them stinging like mad. Two of them run from my ear all the way out to the bridge of my nose, and he winces as he cups the side of my face in one hand.

"Sorry," he mutters when I instinctively flinch, the metal of his gauntlet cool against my skin. "Maker, Rahna, those look bad."

I shrug, rolling my eyes. "They're not _that_ deep. They probably won't even scar once you heal them."

He chuckles at the hint in the sentence. "Alright, alright, boss. Hold still." It's the work of a mere moment for the shallow wounds to close up, the rest of the gashes quickly following suit.

After a quick check to make sure everyone else is alright, I lead the way deeper into the wastes, wanting nothing more than to find and kill the Mother so we can get out of this nightmarish place. Maker as my witness, this is worse than the Blackmarsh.

**oOo**

Getting through is hard. There's darkspawn everywhere, more than a few of them emissaries, and a couple more of those armored ogres that gave us so much trouble. I find myself wishing Stroud had felt up to coming. _Another blade-especially a warrior's-would really come in handy right about now_, I think to myself as I duck under one ogre's hand and impale a genlock on my "Wade sword", which I've decided to call Vigilance. Seems to fit. Sigrun yelps as the ogre nearly steps on her and retaliates by slicing open the back of the thing's ankles. When it throws back its head and roars in pain, Nathaniel takes advantage of the opening to quickly fire a pair of arrows into its throat. The ogre lets out a gurgling moan and tumbles to the ground, handily crushing a pair of genlocks who didn't move out of the way quickly enough. I smirk at the irony of a darkspawn helping us even the odds a bit as I charge one of the emissaries. The weakness spell it summons slows me down, but not enough, and soon its headless corpse tumbles off the overhang where it was standing.

"Maker above, I sodding _love_ this sword!" I laugh as I launch myself from the outcropping to land on the back of the remaining ogre.

"Rahna, are you _**insane**_?" Anders yells at me.

"That's the popular theory!" I holler back, jamming both swords into the back of the monster's neck and twisting them until I feel one nick its spine. The ogre is nearly frantic now, pawing desperately at its back with the sole intention of getting me off. I narrowly avoid getting grabbed, but the motion serves to loosen my grasp on my swords, so when the thing lurches hard, struggling for balance, it dislodges me anyhow-sans my swords, which are still dug deep into its back. My head collides hard with stone and stars edge my vision as the others finish off the ogre. I spit out a mouthful of blood and shake my head to clear the cobwebs as I haul myself back to me feet. _I'm gonna get a right piece of Anders' mind for that little stunt..._

And I do. "Rahna Tabris, what were you _thinking_?" he demands, giving me a look that borders on a glare as he makes me hold still. "Let me rephrase that... _Were_ you thinking? At all?"

"Not really," I admit cheerily, grinning at him.

"I swear, you damn crazy elf..." he huffs, using his thumb to wipe away the thin trail of blood running down my chin.

"I just bit my lip hard," I protest, rolling my eyes as I pull his hand away. "Y'know, you're really cute when you fuss over me like this."

Anders sighs in exasperation. "And you're bloody impossible, boss."

I giggle. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Rahna, I'm serious. Well, sort of. You want to have a fighting style that makes me question your sanity, that's up to you. I certainly can't stop you. Just... remember we still need you, alright? And one rogue with a death wish is quite enough for me to worry about," he finishes in a conspiratorial whisper, glancing over at Sigrun.

"I'll keep that in mind," I promise. "Now, would you just make sure I don't have a concussion or anything so we can keep going?"

"Anxious are we, love?"

"I just want this done, Anders," I sigh, leaning forward as he pulls off one gauntlet to feel the back of my head for bumps and leaking brain matter.

"I know. This 'constant danger' thing is dreadfully hard on my poor nerves." He grins.

"Aw, poor Anders..." I tease, grinning back.

"Minx," he laughs. "You're fine. No more brain damage or anything far as I can tell."

I shoot him a dirty look for the 'more' in that sentence as I retrieve my swords from the ogre's corpse, but I really am in a hurry to get this done.

The ground starts sloping down just past the site of this last battle, curving in a path that's marked by bleached dragon bones stuck intermittently in the ground along its edges. I can still sense the darkspawn strongly enough to know they're nearby, so we proceed with caution. Just a short distance ahead, the crumbled remains of a stone wall serve as a gateway as the path widens into a clearing where a group of darkspawn are fighting several half-grown Childers.

"Hang on." I grab Sigrun's arm before she can charge forward. "Let's let them fight it out first."

She nods, stepping back. "Good plan, Commander." So we wait. The Childers eventually overcome the darkspawn, and then wheel around and charge in our direction. There's only three of them left by this point, and thanks to Nathaniel and Anders, one's dead before they even make it to us, and the others are badly injured. Sigrun and I finish them off easily enough.

However, she and I have barely taken three steps past the stone archway when I hear Nathaniel curse and holler, "Move!"

His warning is nearly drowned out by the roar of the dragon that lands practically on top of the two of us, the downdraft from its wings sending us tumbling.

"Andraste's flaming_ knickerweasels_!" Anders is already casting something even as he swears, and soon the dragon's hide is bathed in the flickering red light of a mortality curse. Sigrun and I hastily climb back to our feet and lunge forward, trying to distract the dragon as it whirls to find its tormentor. Given the fact Anders and Nathaniel are standing close enough to each other it could easily get both of them should it decide to spew flames, I'm extra motivated to keep its attention on me and Sigrun. We both charge in and attack an ankle, Sigrun burying her axe deep in the back of one while I stab Vigilance clean through the other.

_I'm definitely glad I took time to track down the stuff Wade needed to make this thing,_ I can't help but grin. The dragon, of course, is none to happy with our actions, and kicks out to dislodge the two of us. Vigilance is so sharp, it just slides right back out, doing more damage than it did on the way in. Sigrun's axe, however, sticks. The abruptness of the kick wrenches the weapon's handle from her grasp and sends her stumbling backwards, but the axe blade is still lodged deep in the dragon's ankle. It twists in her direction, nearly taking out the archway-and Anders and Nathaniel-in the process.

"Out of the way, Rahna!" Anders hollers at me as I get ready to lunge for another ankle. I obey instinctively; experience has taught me when a mage tells you to move, it's for a _**very**_ good reason. A thick, swirling cone of ice magic bursts from Anders' staff, freezing the dragon solid. Sigrun and I both dart back in as soon as he's finished casting, Sigrun to retrieve her axe and me to clamber up the thing's spike-riddled tail. Much to my surprise, none of my companions demands to know what I think I'm doing. I was sure either Anders or Nathaniel was going to, with this habit of worrying about me they've both developed. I know on big creatures like dragons, even the most powerful ice spell that can be conjured doesn't last long, so I make a beeline for the base of one of the wings and jam both swords in as deep as they'll go, wiggling them back and forth for a moment before I yank them out and turn, repeating the process on the other wing, praying I have time before-

The dragon lurches underneath me, its movements jerky and stiff thanks to the residual effects of the ice spell.

_Oh, bloody Void..._ I hastily yank out my swords, so even if it does shake me off, I won't lose them. I didn't have time to get to its neck like I wanted, and Anders can't recast that spell with me riding the damned thing, but at least it can't fly. The dragon jerks a few seconds later, lunging after Sigrun, and sends me rolling off its back. I tuck in my head as I do, so there's nothing to worry about aside from minor bruises and scrapes by the time I come to a stop. Oh, and a mild case of dizziness.

Sigrun hollers in pain as the dragon bats her away with the back of one foot.

"Anders, would you finish the sodding thing off?" I yell as I swoop in to distract the monstrous thing from pursuing the dwarf.

"Trying!" he yells back, just as both a lightning spell and a couple arrows hit the dragon. It's starting to waver, which is a good thing, considering I'm getting tired, and I know the same has to be true for Sigrun. "Keep it busy for just a few more seconds!"

"I'll try!" I pant, looking back at the mage out of the corner of my eye as I help Sigrun to her feet. There's an absolutely massive ball of flame building in between his hands, and I dearly hope dragons aren't as fire resistant as legend holds. "C'mon," I mutter to Sigrun, "Sparklefingers just needs a few more seconds."

She giggles, then winces. "I thought... only Oghren called him that."

"Where d'you think I learned it?" I shoot back as I wheel back toward the dragon. Despite our best efforts, it seems to know Anders is currently the biggest threat of our group, and ignores us, spinning to face where both he and Nathaniel are standing. It lets out a roar, the sound so loud it makes my head hurt, and then focuses on the pesky mage that's given it so much trouble this fight.

I feel my heart rate double as it pulls in the deep breath necessary to belch flame. "_**ANDERS!**_" _Hurry it up, or Sigrun and I'll be finishing this on our own!_

Just before the flames erupt from the dragon's jaws, Anders puts one last burst of power into the spell he's summoning and throws it at the monster's gaping mouth. "Suck on a fireball, you scaly bastard!"

The dragon lets out a long, loud-earsplitting, honestly-shriek of agony as Anders' fireball ignites its own flames, but carries all the power down its throat and through its insides. It weaves for a second before crashing to the ground, sending tremors through stone.

Anders smirks at me, trying to catch his breath. "How's that, boss?"

I roll my eyes at him. "That works. Maybe don't cut it so close next time?"

"Hopefully there won't _be_ a next time," Sigrun chips in. "Still, that was kind of awesome."

"You, I like," Anders grins at her. "You alright, love? Anything broken?"

"Not like you could do anything about it if there was," she shoots back. "Dwarf, remember?"

"You're magic resistant, not magic-_proof_," he argues. "It would just be harder, that's all."

I roll my eyes again at the two of them and motion to Nathaniel. "Let's see if those darkspawn have anything worth salvaging while those two argue the point."

A wry smile pulls at one side of his mouth as he nods. "As you wish, Commander."

By the time we finish, Anders and Sigrun are still at an impasse, but call it off when I point out that the Mother's not going to keel over from old age while they argue. Ready as we'll ever be, we head for the crumbling remains of a Tevinter tower that sit next to the clearing. I can only guess at what exactly we'll find inside, but somehow I have the feeling it'll be even more of a nightmare than out here.

_A/N: It just figures that Anders has to one-up everyone else. xD Rahna, Sigrun, and Nathaniel have each killed an ogre, so OF COURSE that darn mage has to kill a high dragon. *giggle* That was fun to write, though. Plus, I worked in another party banter, which I haven't done in a while. =D There's only one left that I really, really want to find some way to work in, so we'll see if I can somehow make it work..._


	66. Necessary Evils

**I want this at the beginning, rather than the end: I do use a pretty good chunk of game dialogue in this chapter, because it's an (extremely)important conversation and I feel like the dialogue choices given for the Warden to say fit just about perfectly with Rahna's personality. So there's a fairly large portion of this chapter where the dialogue was written by BioWare, not me. =)**

66. Necessary Evils

The inside of the tower is covered in patches of darkspawn corruption, fleshy pods like I saw in the Deep Roads bulging out of the walls and floor at intervals.

"Okay. This place gives me the creeps," Anders mutters. There's a muffled _mew_ from his pack as Pounce sides with his owner. I nod my own agreement. Sigrun's the only one who doesn't seem the least bit phased by all the corruption, which makes me wonder how much time she spent in the Legion of the Dead to not be bothered by all this.

As we cautiously walk forward, all of us wary of a trap, I think I see someone hiding in the shell of one of the crumbled tower spires. When I turn to look, however, there's nothing there. I'm left with the vague impression of blonde hair and splintmail, but nothing to back up this sense of being watched. So I shrug to myself and lead the way deeper into the ruins. I'm assuming they're Tevinter; based off the architecture, and the torn pieces of spellbooks Nathaniel and I find whenever we crack open the locked chests sitting in side rooms, margins full of cramped notes about the Imperium and magisters and things like that. I give that stuff to Anders to carry, since he has the most room left in his pack.

We haven't gone far into the ruins before we run into opposition. The first set of stairs is covered in Childer grubs and hurlocks, corkscrewing down to a small open space where an armored darkspawn mage stands, growling what must be orders to the others as they charge us. Fighting on stairs is tricky, but at least we have the high ground, which is a distinct advantage. The fight is frenzied and rushed as we cut through the darkspawn on the steps. By the time Sigrun and I have a clear shot at the emissary, Anders has already used that mana clash thing to take care of it. Sigrun and I skid to a halt just shy of the corpse.

"Nice work!" I call up to the mage, who's stopped halfway down the spiraled staircase.

He offers a mock bow. "My pleasure, boss."

"Ogre!" Sigrun hollers in tandem with the huge, armored beast charging in from a balcony where we couldn't see it. This one takes a team effort to bring down, Anders slowing its movements with an ice spell-_Maker, I'm glad he learned those_-Sigrun and I slicing open both its ankles and the back of it knees, so when Nathaniel's arrow catches it in the hollow of its collarbone, it reels back and falls. Sigrun and I finish it off with quick thrusts of my swords and her dirk.

**oOo**

As we keep going deeper in, there's no shortage of darkspawn to fight. The ruins have a pattern to them; a bridge followed by a twisting staircase that empties on a small chamber with a pair of balconies. The _only_ thing I don't mind about this design is that the Tevinters apparently stationed archers on the balconies, so Nathaniel doesn't have to worry about running out of arrows anytime soon. We keep going deeper, fighting for every yard of progress until my arms twinge with fatigue just from reaching for my swords and I'm begging the Maker for a break. I'm going to be no good against the Mother if this keeps up much longer.

Despite my pleas, I can't help but be suspicious when we enter yet another tower to find it completely void of darkspawn, Childers, or anything else hostile.

"I don't like this," Nathaniel comments in an undertone.

"Me, neither," I agree. We've nearly reached the bottom of the stairs when I hear a soft rustle back near the top. My head snaps up, hands jerking instinctively towards my swords. I only relax the slightest bit when the Architect and the dwarf who was with him in the silverite mines appear in the doorway.

The darkspawn nods slowly. "And so we meet again, Warden."

I feel Anders tense behind me, magic swirling around his hands as the dwarven warrior draw her sword. I turn and give him a look that I hope telegraphs _trust me_ to the mage. Not that I can blame him for his reaction; it's taking everything in me to fight down the urge to tell Nathaniel to shoot the... thing right between the eyes.

"No, Utha," the Architect murmurs, motioning for her to lower her sword. "That is not how this must begin." It... He... _Maker, which is it?_ turns back to me. "I owe you an apology, Commander. When last we met, I intended to explain myself." He steps off the edge of the parapet and rides a wave of magic down to the floor. "Fate, however, intervened."

"I escaped, you mean, " I shoot back, crossing my arms, still wary. He looks and moves too much like an arcane horror for me to be completely comfortable with this proximity.

He shakes his head almost regretfully, if darkspawn can feel remorse. "I restrained you only to prevent the misunderstanding that occured with the rest of your order."

Behind me, Anders snorts in disbelief, and I hear his armor rattle as he crosses his arms as well. "'_Misunderstanding'_? Is that what you call it?"

"I sent the Withered to ask to the Grey Wardens' help," the Architect explains, his tone unnaturally calm. "I should have anticipated that you might view our approach as an attack. I am rarely able to judge how your kind will react. It was most unfortunate."

_Got that right... approaching a stronghold full of a group pledged to fight your kind without anything to show you mean no harm? Are you really naive enough to think it could've ended any other way?_ "Unfortunate?" I echo, staring at him in disbelief equal to Anders'. "You took those men and _bled them dry_!" In my mind's eye, I see the corpses of men strung up in the mine tunnels, eyes gouged out and blood crusting on their skin.

"The Grey Wardens who were brought to me were already dead," he replies, tone still implacably calm.

I think of Keenan and fight the urge to throw him in this darkspawn's face, dying broken and in agony. _Not all of them... unless you can't even control your own followers from giving in to their natural urges to maim and kill._

"I took their blood just as I took yours; because I had little choice," he continues softly. "Things... have not gone as I planned. I only ask that you hear me out. If you still wish to slay me afterwards, you may try."

_I'm gonna regret this..._ "Fine. I'll hear you out." I don't even bother to keep the skepticism out of my tone.

The Architect give a brief nod of thanks before beginning, "My kind has ever been driven to seek out the Old Gods. This is our nature. When we find one, a Blight is begun. Each time we attack your surface lands, and you fight back until we are defeated. To break the cycle, my brethren need to be freed of their compulsion. For that, I need Grey Warden blood."

"Why?" I demand.

"In order to become what you are, you drink the blood of my kind. To transform," he answers. "Similarly, we must transform. I have created a version of your Joining that uses the blood of Grey Wardens. You take the taint into yourselves. What we take is your resistance. That is how my brethren are freed. In your blood lies the key to their immunity against the call of hte Old Gods."

"I like my blood where it is, thanks," Anders chimes in, "In my veins."

I have to chuckle a little at his comment before asking, "And... how do the darkspawn change afterwards?"

"Once they are freed, the darkspawn think for themselves, they speak, they act," he replies. "Some, however, react poorly. They are flawed and the rage against me. The Mother gathers them to stop me... as she seeks to stop you. I cannot defeat her alone, and I cannot free the darkspawn unless she is defeated. Our goals are the same."

"Are you sodding _kidding_ me?" Sigrun bursts out. "This reeks of stupid, Commander! The last thing we need is more darkspawn thinking for themselves!"

"Darkspawn or no, he has a good point," Nathaniel argues. "Do we really want to keep killing each other forever?"

"No, but how do we know it would _stop_ if we help him?" she shoots back. Much as I trust Nathaniel, I'm with Sigrun on this one. Again.

"Warden, all I ask is that you help me defeat the Mother. After it is done, I will leave to continue my work," the Architect promises.

My head's in a whirl by this point, pros and cons of each path warring in my mind. "What is this "Mother" exactly?" I ask, mostly to satisfy my curiosity and buy myself a few more minutes to think before I make my choice.

"My most flawed creation," he admits. "Freedom drove her mad, and she has poisoned the minds of the others. She has influence with the ones who have not been freed, and she gathers them as an army. I do not seek to rule my brethren. I only seek to release them from their chains."

"And what if they don't want to be free?" I retort. Considering how many talking darkspawn I've encountered who were following the Mother, I don't think the rest of his kind view freedom the same way he does.

"How would they know, when the choice have not been given to them?" the Architect counters in his sibilant voice. "Without choice, there is only one path before them and that leads to the Blights. I believe there is another way."

I bite my lip, feeling the others waiting for my decision but torn as to what that decision should be. Nathaniel's right; the Architect does have a good point. And coming from the standpoint of a race that spent centuries in slavery, I can understand wanting to be free. It's a noble goal.

But Sigrun's also right; this reeks of stupid. The darkspawn in the mines-which were followers of the Architect-were just as vicious, bloodthirsty and sadistic as those who fought for the Mother. An even bigger flaw in this plan, far as I'm concerned, at least, is that if the darkspawn are freed of the Old Gods' call, what's to keep them in the Deep Roads? They still carry the corruption, and if they were to spread out, the taint would spread with them. It's my duty as a Grey Warden to protect the people of Thedas from exactly that. And aside from _that_, the only "free" darkspawn I've encountered who haven't tried to kill me on sight and unprovoked are the Architect and his messenger to the city.

_Alistair, what do I do?_ The thought flashes through my mind almost before I'm aware it's formed. _Nearly nine months dead and I'm still asking your opinion, love..._

_ This one's up to you, Rahna. I trust you._ The fact I actually felt an answer catches me off-guard, but also, oddly enough, helps settle my inner turmoil enough I can give an answer.

I look at the Architect and shake my head. "No. I will not help you. This ends here."

"Commander, are you sure?" Nathaniel protests. "We could stop this cycle of Blights and Old Gods!"

"_Could_, Nathaniel," I point out. "Not _would_." I sigh. "It's far from a sure thing and this is one risk I am not willing to take. So yes, I'm sure."

He still disagrees; I can see it in his eyes, but he nods. "I... Very well, Commander."

The Architect hangs his head in regret. "How very unfortunate. But I cannot blame you. You are as bound to your nature as we are to ours." He looks up at Utha. "I am sorry, Utha. It appears I will not be able to keep my promise after all." His gaze returns to me. "You will have to forgive me, Commander, for fighting to preserve my destiny."

I'm already drawing my swords, hollering a warning-completely unnecessary-for the others as Utha charges down the stairs and the Architect starts summoning something. Sigrun and Nathaniel take care of the dwarven warrior, allowing Anders and me to devote our full attention to the Architect. I see the familiar pulse of the mana clash spell Anders seems to love so much against casters, but aside from disrupting whatever spell the Architect was summoning, it doesn't appear to do much damage.

Anders looks at me and shrugs as he summons another spell of his own, flinging a ball of icy magic at the darkspawn as Sigrun and Nathaniel finish off Utha and turn to help us. A crackling sphere of lightning jumps from the Architect's hands and slams into Sigrun's chest, but given her in-born resistance to magic, what was supposed to be a chain lightning spell fizzles out having only hit her. And whatever pain it may have caused just seems to make her more focused on the fight, her dirk shearing off a couple of the darkpsawn's fingers in retaliation.

I'm feeling better about our chances of winning, because every time the Architect starts to summon something powerful, one of us interrupts him. The arrows Nathaniel found apparently have some kind of enchantment on them that interrupts spell-casting, which is a blessing I find myself thanking the Maker for, because unlike me and Sigrun-and even Anders-who miss occasionally, Nathaniel hits what he's aiming for every time.

Things are going well, until we're all just a hair too slow one time. One sodding time, the badly wounded Architect manages to finish casting his spell.

And it starts raining fire in a torrent that seems like it will never end.

_A/N: So, there's one boss fight down(sort of...), one more to go. I have to admit, ever since reading _The Calling_ and having sided with the Architect a couple times, it's hard to roleplay this decision for differing characters. :\ I always want to kill him. But some of my Wardens didn't. My first Cousland didn't, and I have a Brosca who won't if she ever gets there. I don't think people who side with him are stupid idiots or anything, it just feels__** wrong**__ to side with him to me. Just my opinion. Don't hate me... :) My reasons are pretty much the ones Rahna give, with a bit more fleshing out, but I didn't want to have her internal monologue go so long it got boring. Those of you worrying about the Vigil crew(you know who you are...), I'm hoping there's only one more chapter, two at most, before we get back and find out how everyone's doing._


	67. Choices

67. Choices

_ Time and only time will tell us;_

_ Tell: was I right or wrong?_

How do you defend against fire, especially when it's everywhere? Pooling on the floor, filling the air, clinging to your armor until the smell of burning leather and scorched metal is almost as overwhelming as the flames themselves? I really wish I knew. Far as I can remember, Nathaniel and Sigrun have some enchantments with some level of fire resistance on their armor, but Anders and I don't. A fact I'm cursing as the heat from whatever the Architect called down on us sears my skin.

One of the fiery projectiles lands on my shoulder, and I yelp in pain as my shoulder jerks in an attempt to _get it off_. An attempt that's not initially successful, requiring me to drop out of the fight for a few seconds as I try to brush the flames off my skin. My shoulder is raw and all but bleeding by the time I succeed, hurting badly enough I have to fight a whimper just trying to swing my sword. Anders notices, and the healing spell he summons is a blessed relief, even if it doesn't completely heal the burned skin.

The Architect is casting more slowly now, spells taking longer for him to summon and not doing as much damage when he does. Not that they need to; this seemingly unending rain of fire is doing enough damage. I see Sigrun flinch and hiss in pain as one of the balls of flame grazes her cheek.

_Almost done, he's almost done..._ I keep telling myself that, hoping it's true. Fortunately, the fire slows and stops a few seconds later. As the Architect tries to summon something massive again-whether that cataclysmic firestorm or something else-I launch myself forward, ignoring the twinge of pain in my injured shoulder, and slash both swords across his chest repeatedly. I don't stop until the darkspawn crumbles to the ground and lies still. I stand over his corpse for a moment, gasping for breath as I assure myself this fight is over and remind myself this was the right choice.

I think.

"Commander, you okay?" Sigrun's voice pulls me out of my reverie and I jolt back to reality.

I nod. "I'm fine. What about you?" I'm turning even as I ask, and can't help but wince when I see the burned and blistered skin along the side of her face and neck. "Maker, Sig, he really got you."

She frowns, sheathes her dirk and reaches up to gingerly run her fingers over her cheek. "Funny. It doesn't even hurt that badly..." She sees the incredulous look I'm giving her and clarifies. "It _hurts_, just not as badly as you'd think something like this would hurt."

"Ah. Still, you need to let Anders look at it. See if there's anything he can do. My shoulder's not even hurting anymore, Sigrun." That part's a bit of a lie. "You go first."

She looks like she's about to protest before she faces Anders, tilting her chin to the side so her can get a better look at the burn. None of us miss the wince that flashes across her face. I can't help but wonder if she was lying, too.

Anders gently traces his fingers around the edges of the burn, which extends almost up to her cheekbone and down to the collar of her armor, and lets out a soft whistle. "You're one tough cookie, love, you know that?"

Sigrun rolls her eyes. "I've had worse. Just... see what you can do."

"Aye, aye, my lady," the healer chuckles, his hand glowing blue.

I crouch to see if the Architect has anything worth trying to salvage while I wait for my turn, using one hand to check for pockets and valuable things while the other-the one that belongs to my injured shoulder-curls in close to my chest. I am not left-handed, so when I notice the Architect's belt looks enchanted and try to work it loose, I don't have much luck.

"Let me." Nathaniel kneels next to me and unclasps the belt, sliding it free of the tattered robes.

"Thanks. I think that's enchanted, but Anders can tell for sure," I comment. Nathaniel just nods, obviously distracted. "Alright, Nate, what's wrong?" I have a feeling I know, but he's my friend, so I'm still going to ask.

"Are... Are you sure it's wise to kill a potential ally, Commander?"

"When said potential ally comes with as many risks as this one would have, yes," I reply, hoping this doesn't turn into a long, drawn out debate when we still need to kill the Mother.

"If we could end the Blights, wouldn't that be worth it?"

I'm too worn out to be anything but blunt. "No. It wouldn't." I sigh, rake my good hand through my hair. "Your heart's in the right place, Nathaniel, but Grey Wardens are supposed to protect the world from _darkspawn_, not just Blights. Even supposing he can free them all from the Song or the Call or whatever you want to call it, and supposing no more go sodding insane like the Mother and they're all okay with leaving us alone..." _Which is already supposing a lot, far as I'm concerned..._ "If only a fraction of them decide not to stay in the Deep Roads, the taint will spread with them. I dunno about you, but I don't want to see the population of Thedas turned into ghouls." I offer a sympathetic smile. "For what it's worth, it wasn't an easy choice to make. He had a good goal. I just can't see it being worth the risks."

Nathaniel nods again, slowly, as if digesting my reasons. "I... understand. I may still disagree with your choice, but I understand why you decided as you did. So long as you thought about it instead of it just being an impulsive choice."

I grin at him. "Nate, I only make impulsive choices in the heat of battle or if someone insults someone I care about."

He chuckles as he stands, offering me a hand up as well. "I see. Now, you need to let Anders take care of your shoulder."

My grin turns impish as I grasps his hand with my good one. "Nathaniel Howe, are you tryin' to mother me?" My glib question earns me another chuckle as he nudges me towards Anders.

"I suppose I am," he admits, coiling the salvaged belt around one hand.

The burn on my shoulder is easy enough for Anders to heal, considering he already did something for it right after it happened. There's not even a scar. Sigrun's not so lucky on that score; despite Anders' best efforts, the skin on her face and neck healed in ridges, her tattoos warped by now-uneven skin. She doesn't really seem to mind much, shrugging off the damage with a cheery reminder that what do looks matter to a 'dead' woman?

I hope she's not just burying her true feelings under a perky smile, but I let it go and we press further into the ruins. I really hope we're getting close.

**oOo**

As it turns out, we are. There's another of the bridges, and then another spiral staircase, but I think this may be the last one. There's a tunnel, lit with an eerie green glow and oozing with corruption at the base of the stairs, and the Childers we encounter-from the grubs to the full grown ones-seem determined, frantic almost, to not let us reach it. Which of course, means we kill them and regroup as fast as we can before heading down the tunnel.

"If this stench is any indication, whatever we find won't be pleasant," Anders comments with a wry grin.

"Agreed," Sigrun nods, wrinkling her nose. "Ancestors... it smells worse than burning bronto!"

"I'm... almost afraid to ask how you know that..." I comment, raising an eyebrow at the dwarf.

She shrugs. "Put together a careless handler and a river of lava. You'll get the general idea."

"Eeww," Anders mutters, making a face. "Now that I have that lovely image burned into my mind for all eternity, can we change the subject? How are we planning to fight this Mother person?"

"Depends on what she is," I point out. I have a feeling I know-there's only one type of female darkspawn, after all-but don't want to assume anything at this point. "Which I'd guess we'll find out at the end of this tunnel."

I'm right but almost wish I wasn't. The tunnel empties onto a plateau edged in more dragon bones and a few clusters of cocoons that I just know hold Childer grubs. But it's the... thing at the far end of the plateau that catches our attention the most.

"_What_ is _**that**_?" Nathaniel demands, speaking my mind perfectly as we stare at the creature. It looks like a human broodmother, but still too _human_, black lines cracking her skin across her face, her skin an ashy grey and her eyes bloodshot.

"Aww, by the Ancestors! Do all broodmothers smell _this _bad?" Sigrun asks, looking like she wants to throw up.

"Probably comes with being so big and ugly," Anders comments, an expression of disgust seeming frozen across his face as he stares at the broodmother.

"I've seen uglier," I retort, thinking of Laryn. "A fully transformed dwarven broodmother is much worse. Trust me."

The broodmother cackles when she sees us. "If it isn't the hero of the hour!" she taunts. "The slayer of the mighty Father, come to claim a reward." A wheezing laugh echoes around the chamber, vast as it is. "Oh, what a delicious day! Has the Grey Warden come now to slay the Mother too? Will she join the Father in oblivion?"

I really have nothing to say to her. She's obviously insane, and if this is the result of being free even for even half the darkspawn, I'm more sure than ever I made the right choice killing the Architect. For now, though, we need to get rid of this abomination. "You're very perceptive. Now, die!"

She seems maniacally giddy at my response. "Then the silence ends here. Perhaps we will hear the song again when we die. Oh, let it come! Let it come!" She screams out in rage, the skin of her face peeling back to show bone underneath as we draw our weapons and Anders starts summoning an ice spell.

_This is going to be a long fight..._ I mentally brace myself as I charge forward, sternly reminding myself not to waste too much energy in the early stages of the fight, because this will not end well if I do. A small forest of slender, dancing tentacle erupt from the floor, one right in front of me as I close in. "Sod it _**all**_! Don't worry about these if you can avoid it, worry about _her_!" I holler to the others as I dodge a tentacle headed straight for my head.

"Got it, Rahna!" Anders calls back, lightning jumping from his fingers the the Mother's bloated body. She shrieks and lashes out.

"Sigrun, watch out!" I duck as one of the Mother's tentacles soars over my head and toward the dwarf. Fortunately my warning comes in time for her to brace herself so the blow does nothing more than send her staggering back a few paces. She grunts in exertion and retaliates by slashing deep into the tentacle with her axe. Ichor gushes out and the Mother screeches in enraged agony. Nathaniel and I both take advantage of her being so distracted; he sends an arrow streaking toward her and I jam both my swords as far into the base of one tentacles as they'll go.

Unfortunately, one of the problems with being a melee-oriented rogue chooses this moment to manifest itself: I'm too sodding close to an incredibly powerful adversary and wearing less than heavy armor. So when the Mother whips her one uninjured tentacle in my direction, there's little I can do in time but get my arms out of the way so they aren't trapped as she yanks me into the air and squeezes hard enough I feel at least one rib crack.

"Rahna!"

"Commander!"

Anders and Nathaniel's simultaneous cries ring in my ears as an arrow whistles past me and black tints the edge of my vision. _Oh, no you don't, you twisted bitch!_ I gasp in as much air as I can to keep from passing out and awkwardly maneuver Vigilance to drag it up the tentacle curled around my chest. The Mother jerks, shudders, and flings me away with a shriek of pained fury. I crash into a rock outcropping hard enough the darkness comes roaring in the smother the cacaphony of battle as I tumble to the ground.

**oOo**

_The Fade looks different this time. Things are clearer, details more vivid. And the campfire is closer to dying. Only a few weak tongues of flame lick almost halfheartedly at the lopsided pile of wood. And Alistair isn't doing anything about it. He's just crouching next to it, staring with great interest at the dancing, struggling flames. As if sensing my presence, he turns to look at me._

_ "What happened?" I remember slamming into the rock so hard I thought I was going to jolt out of my skin. "Am I...dead?"_

_ "Not quite. But I do have to say, I've never seen you cut it quite so close, love," Alistair comments, rising and pulling me into a hug. He feels more __**real**__ this time. "And I'll wager your mage is working up a revival spell as we speak, so you need to listen to me, Rahna."_

_ The unusually serious tone grabs my attention. "Okay."_

_ "The spell will only work if you want it to." He nods at my stunned look. "Yes, you're __**that**__ far gone. You could stay here this time. If you want to..."_

_ Stay here? With Alistair? Temptation roars up like a charging ogre._

_ "...Or you can go back and help your friends."_

_ Anders. Nathaniel. Sigrun. They __**need**__ me. The Mother was enough trouble with four people. I can't imagine how just three could pull off a victory._

_ "But, if you go back now, there won't be any more dreams like this." His amber eyes drill me with a stare._

_"So I won't see you again?" I know what I should do, what I most likely will do, but I still feel incredibly torn over that revelation._

_ "Not until after your Calling. But you need to let me __**go**__, Rahna. You have people who care about you, even I can see it." He smirks mischieveously. "Some more than others."_

_ "What's __**that**__ supposed to mean?"_

_ His smirk widens. He __**knows**__ I'm above all else __**curious**__. "I'm not going to tell you. You have to find out for y'self."_

_ I feel the tug of Anders' revival spell calling me back. "Oh, alright, fine. You win. I love you."_

_ He kisses me, cupping my face with one hand. My response is more desperate than ever before. It __**is**__ our last kiss, even if it's just a figment of my imagination._

_ Even as I cling to him, he starts to fade, as does everything else. Pale blue light encircles me, cutting me off from him. Just before he fades completely, Alistair meets my eyes and mouths 'Goodbye, love'._

_ As I feel myself rushing away from him, I can't help but realize that letting him go was much easier than I'd thought it would be. But he was right; I have people-still living people-who care about me. Anders, Nathaniel, sod, even Oghren, though I know he'd never admit it._

_ Wynne. Leliana. My father, Soris and Shianni. Sigrun. Jowan and Zev._

** oOo**

The feeling of grit-coated stone under my cheek interrupts my train of thought. I slide one hand up level with my shoulder and groan as I shakily push myself up onto hands and knees.

"Rahna!" Anders rests one hand on my back and steadies me the rest of my journey to an upright position. "Don't scare us like that," he reprimands with a grin that can't hide how worried he was once I'm steady, and starts building up a massive amount of lightning between his hands. I scoop up my fallen swords and race forward to join Sigrun as she slices at the Mother's body. She screams loud enough to shake the stone as all four of us land blows within seconds of each other; Anders' lightning bolt, Nathaniel's arrow, Sigrun's axe and dirk, and then my swords.

Anders sends a stonefist so close on the heels of his lightning bolt the Mother is barely finished reeling from one before the other slams into her. Nathaniel takes advantage of the monster's distraction and nocks another arrow, drawing the bowstring back so far I'm half worried the heartwood will snap in two before loosing the shaft. It flies through the air so fast it nearly _shrieks_ before burying almost its whole length in the hollow of the Mother's collarbone. She lets out a shriek of her own and bats him aside with one bleeding, twitching tentacle.

_Now. _I yank out my dagger and run forward, nearly slipping on the blood and ichor slicked rock._ Zev would never let me live __**that**__ down._ I chuckle to myself at the absurdity of thinking that at a time like this as I throw myself toward the Mother, finger digging into her skin for a hold as my dagger sinks into her skull, once, twice. Finally she sags, limp and dead, and I stand there gasping for breath, trying to convince myself it's really over.

Then the practical, Commander-of-the-Grey part of my brain takes over when my multitude of bruises begin the chorus of aches. I roll one stiff shoulder and wince. "Anybody hurt?"

Anders is pretty much fine-a few bruises that hardly even hurt unless you practically hit them-and aside from bruises and stiff spots, so am I, but Sigrun has a couple broken ribs, and Nathaniel's elbow looks suspiciously like it's dislocated. Even in her death throes, the Mother was apparently a lot stronger than we were expecting. Anders cast a healing spell for Sigrun's ribs. "I... Magic can't do anything for dislocated joints, Rahna," he explains when I shoot him a look that wonders why he didn't do anything for Nathaniel. "Only one way to fix those."

"Oh, fine. I guess it's kind of stating the obvious to tell you this is going to hurt?" I offer Nathaniel an apologetic half smile as I rest my hands on his arm. _If healing spells can knit bone back together, how come they can't pop joints back into socket?_

He almost flinches even at the light touch. "It is that, yes. Just do it, Rahna."

"If you insist..." I take a deep breath, psych myself up to do this, and yank and twist.

Nathaniel inhales sharply, his other hand clenching into a fist and his teeth grinding together so hard I can almost hear them.

"You're going to hate me for this, Nate, but-"

"It didn't go back in," he cuts me off, the words sliding between still-clenched teeth. "Trust me, I can tell."

I wince at his tone. _That had to __**really**__ hurt._ "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing and just yank on my bloody arm!"

The mere fact he raised his voice is all the proof I need that this really, _really __**hurts**_. So I just mutter another apology and enlist Anders to help so I can use both hands to yank this time.

That does it. The joint pops back into the socket with an audible _crack_, and Nathaniel inhales another sharp breath at the pain, which changes to a sigh of relief as he flexes his hand.

"There," I mutter, still feeling slightly guilty that it took two tries. "Let's get out of here."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Anders slings his staff on his back-after casting another healing spell for Nathaniel's arm-and heads for the exit. I allow a wry smile to tug at my lips as the rest of us follow his example.

_A/N: Yay, they're both dead! Now, back to the Vigil, because I know you're all dying to know how Varel/Jowan/Gabriel etc are doing. And the thing with Alistair... It's been just shy of nine months, and whether she'll admit it or not, some part of Rahna knows she'll never move on if these dreams keep up. So, in the interest of a healthy future, they need to stop. I will still occasionally put in flashbacks, because those are different, and they wouldn't stop if she wanted them to, but the dreams are a done deal(I think). I do plan to spend some time on the clean up and life returning to "normal" phase, so Rahna's not going anywhere anytime soon. =D Oh, and the lyrics at the beginning are from the song "The Curse of Feanor" by Blind Guardian(yep. I'm such a nerd I listen to bands who write songs based off Tolkien's books. I regret nothing)._


	68. The Morning After

68. The Morning After

_"So, Warden, how has life treated you since last we talked?" _

_ I glare at the dark haired witch, wishing that no more dreams about Alistair would mean no more about her, either. "Why do I get the feeling you don't really care, Morrigan?"_

_ "Perhaps 'tis due to the way we parted?" she shoots back raising an eyebrow at me in that singularly superior fashion of hers._

_ "Or maybe the fact that all you could do the last time you invaded my dreams was rub my face in the agony of my choice? Damned if I do, damned if I don't?" I return, crossing my arms as I glare at her, remembering the pain of what she showed me in that dream; mine and Alistair's Calling, if things had... gone differently. "Why're you even here, Morrigan? What do you want?"_

_ She gives a non-commital shrug. "I simply thought 'twould be... sporting to remind you that life is not going to simply get easier because you have risen to your challenge." She nods toward something behind me, and that's the first I realize we're standing in a Fade-version of the Mother's lair, her corpse sagging behind me._

_ I scoff at that, the sound loud in the empty cavern. "Easy? Sod, Morrigan, I know life's not going to be __**easy**__! Life is __**never**__ easy! I didn't need you to tell me that."_

_ Something in her eyes gets hard. "Be warned, my friend, there are things in motion which you cannot stop, things that will hurt for you to experience. 'Tis part of the life you have chosen, and you will live with consequences of choices not your own."_

_ "I'm a big girl. I'll manage somehow, I'm sure," I retort._

_ "That you will, Warden, but the question you will have to ask yourself is __**how**__ shall you survive?" Morrigan's grin is nothing short of sardonic, and I can't deny the chill that runs up my spine, leaving a large number of goosebumps in its wake._

_ "What're you talking about?" I demand, still glaring at her._

_ She just laughs. "Oh, 'twill be obvious, when it happens. My only purpose was to prepare you for what lies ahead." Something in her eyes softens, and there's a faint trace of sorrow in her voice as she continues. "Despite how we parted, you were a... friend, Warden. The only one I ever had. 'Twould be indecent of me to let you face such a challenge as this shall be without some warning. Make of that what you will." She turns and walks away without giving me a chance to reply, vanishing into the air of the Fade a few moments later. _

**oOo**

I mumble something incoherent as I crack one eye open the tiniest bit. _What...?_

"Welcome back, sleepyhead." Despite Anders' teasing tone, I can still see the relief in his eyes as mine snap open. "Four days is pushing it, boss."

I bolt upright, fighting a reflexive yawn and scrubbing sleep out of my eyes. "Four days? What happened?"

"Oh, you just dropped from sheer exhaustion after climbing all those damn stairs out of the Mother's lair. That's all. Slept the whole way back. Like a baby." He's teasing me again, but I'm used to it. And it's just dawning on me that we're back at the Vigil.

"Oh. Well, thanks," I mutter, still wrapping my head around the fact I was so tired I managed to sleep for four straight days. Last time that happened was just after Fort Drakon. _I didn't think I'd been pushin' myself __**that**__ hard..._

Anders snorts and waves off my gratitude. "Thank Nathaniel. He's the one who carried you the whole way back."

_Even with his arm? At least I can be sure he's not mad at me... _I hesitate before I ask. "How...How bad's the Vigil?"

He sighs. "It held. Barely. There were a lot of casualties. And a lot of wounded."

_He's spent two days healing people. _At the moment, that thought takes precedence over everything else, even wondering who, exactly, might be numbered among those casualties. My eyes narrow suspiciously as the mage sways slightly, his grip tightening on his staff. _He'll_ be dropping from exhaustion soon at this rate. "How much sleep have_ you _gotten?" I demand, swinging my legs over the edge of my cot.

"Rahna, I'm fine," he protests, trying to wave me off as the archer laying nearby cries out in pain. Anders turns and runs his hand over the bandages wrapped around the man's shoulder, pouring more healing magic into whatever wound lies beneath the layers of fabric.

"Anders, I'm _serious_. You can't expect to heal all the wounded by yourself with no rest and not collapse from exhaustion!" I'm on the verge of ordering him to get some rest, but I have a feeling he wouldn't listen to me anyway.

"I'm _not_ doing it alone," he retorts, "I have help."

"Velanna's _helping_?" I may go into shock if she is, with her disdain for shems.

Anders shakes his head, rubbing the heel of his hand across his face as if he can banish his weariness. "No. She disappeared during or after the battle. No one can find her anywhere."

"Then who-" I start, but he cuts me off.

"Jowan, actually." He grins at me. "The man's a better healer than he gives himself credit for. Not nearly as good as me, of course, but he's still pretty good."

"I keep tryin' to tell him that," I chuckle, relieved at the inference Jowan at least is okay. "Maybe if he hears it from someone other than me he'll start to actually believe it." My stomach chooses that moment to let out a complaining growl.

Anders quirks an eyebrow. "Gee, hungry, boss?"

I roll my eyes and swat his arm. "Well, I haven't eaten in four days, with a Grey Warden's appetite... I'm _starving_!" I pause for a second, biting my lip as I pull my hair back in a single ponytail. "But, before we get to that... those casualties you mentioned..."

He sighs. "You sure you want to do this on an empty stomach, Rahna? I don't need you passing out on me again."

I nod, feeling a familiar sense of dread knot my inside. "I'm sure. I won't be able to eat if I'm worrying about this. Just tell me."

He sighs but obliges. "Mostly the casualties-and even the injured ones I'm really worried about-are the soldiers who were stationed here, the rank and file, none you'd know by name if I told you."

"But..." I motion for him to continue when he hesitates. "Anders, come on. I've dealt with death before. I lost my bloody _lover_, alright? Just tell me." I know I'm repeating myself, but the way he hesitated is driving me crazy.

"Oghren and Garevel aren't looking too good," he finally admits, looking me straight in the eye as he tells me, "And Varel's not doing too much better."

I wince at that list. "By 'aren't looking good', you mean..."

"Might not make it," Anders replies, squeezing my hand as he confirms _exactly_ what I was afraid of. "Varel... Varel has a better chance than Oghren or Garevel, despite the fact he got head-butted by an ogre." He chuckles at my incredulous look. "That's one tough bastard you have for a seneschal, Rahna."

I spare a brief moment to smirk about that, because he's right, before growing serious again. "What about Oghren?" We may not have wound up being _best_ friends like I did with Zevran, but the dwarf's still been _a_ friend for quite a while. _Oh, sod, Felsi... and Zara..._

"From what I hear, he held off _two_ ogres at one of the breaches in the wall-and you should see some of those holes, Rahna-to make sure the Vigil's men had time to reinforce the courtyard. He passed out from blood loss, so we're really just waiting to see if he pulls through. Garevel..." he sighs. "Honestly, it looks to me like some darkspawn tried to slit his throat and didn't totally succeed, but came close enough for it to be a serious problem."

I wince at the mental image. "Yikes."

"Mm-hm. I'm most worried about him, to be honest." Anders pinches the bridge of his nos, and I take a moment to really look at him. The tell-tale circles under his eyes and the lines creasing his face practically shout to me that he's lying about how tired he is.

"Anders?"

"Hmm?"

"How long are you planing to run off rejuvanation spells?" I ask, shooting him a mothering look.

He sighs. "Caught that, did you?"

"No one who looks this close to collapse could be running on anything else," I point out. "Did you get any sleep, any at all, when we got back, or did you just throw yourself into healing people?"

Anders winces. "Rahna, what was I supposed to do? The entire bloody keep was full of wounded, Velanna disappeared, Jowan was practically killing himself he was working so hard, and the herbalists all looked about ready to pass out from exhaustion. I had to."

I concede the point. "Okay, fine. You win. You were needed, I get that. Now, what's this about Velanna disappearing? Did she run away in the middle of the battle or something?" I may hunt her down and kill her if she did; despite her warming a bit to me, you do not abandon your fellows like that.

Anders shakes his head. "No. From what I hear, part of the wall collapsed on her and a couple of those Wardens that showed up with Jowan and that redheaded elf. By the time some of the soldiers got the rubble cleared away, Velanna was just... not there. The other Wardens were, but she's gone."

"Probably did that tree-root thing of hers out of instinct," I mutter. "Who else was hurt, and are they going to be alright?"

"Zimri and Aimon, I think," the mage replies.

I raise an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Aimon's arm and a couple of his ribs got broken, and both of Zimri's legs."

I can't help but grin at that news. "So Zimri's stuck wherever we put him? This has so much potential, I can't even begin to imagine it all. Shame about Aimon, though."

"Oh, he'll be fine," Anders assures me. "I have a feeling his injuries will heal _much_ faster than Zimri's."

This time I laugh, but my stomach growls at me again, louder this time. "I guess I should go find some food."

"That's probably a good idea," Anders agrees. "Just be careful navigating the maze."

**oOo**

I'm not entirely sure what he means by that, but it becomes clear when I reach the main hall. There are so many cots, it's like a literal maze to cross the room, every inch of available space being used for bloody, battered soldiers.

_This is what the aftermath of war really looks like..._ I can't help but think. After the Battle of Denerim, I was at the palace the whole time I was recovering, and thus didn't ever see all the wounded and dying from that fight. I knew there were a lot, but knowing that and seeing them in front of you are two different things. I fight down a shudder as I pick my way through the room to head for the kitchen.

"Hello, Commander," one of the cook's assistants greets me with a nod and a smile. "Good to see you up. What can I do for you?"

I smile back at her, shoving up the sleeves of my shirt. "I'm in need of some food. My healer says a good meal is all I need to be ready for action."

She chuckles. "Well, while I hope there's no more action 'round here for a good long while, there's half a pot o' stew sitting by the fire." She nods toward the huge fireplace. "Dunno how warm it is, but it's all we have right now, and you're welcome to it. But you'll have t' eat outside; the dining hall's part of the infirmary now, too."

I nod. "Understood, and thank you."

She hands me a bowl and spoon. "My pleasure, Commander."

**oOo**

The stew has indeed started to cool, but it's still warm enough to smell delicious as I carry my very full bowl outside. This is my first look at what the darkspawn did to my fortress, and it's not pretty. It could be much, much worse; I'm aware of that. The work I had Voldrik do paid off in a big way. But there are still gaps in the walls, the gates are torn off their hinges, almost every blade of grass in the place is trampled, scorched, or both.

"She is a mess, no?"

I turn at the familiar voice and grin. "Hello to you, too, Gabriel Andras."

He chuckles and smirks at me. "I am just glad to see the sleeping beauty has awakened."

I raise an eyebrow. "Miri know you talk to other women like that?"

He laughs and tweaks my ponytail. "Not 'other women'. Just you. Maker knows I need to stay on my commander's good side, no?"

"Ah, but if you're on your way to the Free Marches, I'm not technically your commander, now am I?" I wink at him.

"Hostess, then," he corrects himself. "And I am glad to see you're alright, Rahna."

"Likewise, my friend," I reply, setting down the bowl of stew so I can give him a brief hug. "We weren't hearing anything good about the state of things here while we were in the city."

"Well, there were an awful lot of those bloody things, so I can't say I'm surprised," Gabriel answers. I balance on a sawed-off tree stump in lieu of a proper seat, and he drops to a cross-legged sitting position on the ground next to me, wincing briefly as he settles in.

"I hear you all took a bit of a beating," I hint, digging into my food. _Maker, this is good..._

"That we did," he nods. "We were pretty badly outnumbered, Rahna. And these darkspawn are smarter than others. So, you take ten to one odds, add in some brutality on the larger side, and things are going to get ugly, no?"

"I suppose they would," I concede. "Obviously you still won."

"That's because you have many crazy friends," Gabriel chuckles. "Like that berserk dwarf."

"I heard about Oghren," I mumble around a mouthful of stew.

"And apparently, Kiv has a love of slaying ogres I never knew about before," he adds with a smirk. "Probably showing off for Syn."

I laugh. "Men do that. You honestly expect me to believe you never once showed off for Miri?"

"_Non._ Because I did." He grins at me.

"Well, since the fortress still stands, thanks to all of you, and the battle is behind us now... I guess you're leaving soon?"

He cocks his head at me. "Define 'soon'. Almost all of us have some healing to do before we can head for the Marches. I have a couple cracked ribs, as does Kiv, who also has a very, very lovely black eye, Syn was on the receiving end of some very nasty gashes courtesy of a shriek... You get the picture, no?"

"Mm-hm. Badly as I know you want to get going, can't say I'll mind having you around longer." I brush loose wisps of hair out of my eyes and finally ask the question I've been dying to ask since I woke up. "So... where's Jowan?"

Gabriel smiles, a grin that says he knew I was going to ask that eventually. "He was pushing himself so hard he looked like death warmed over, so I told him to get some sleep. I have no idea where he went to do so, but he wasn't in any kind of shape to protest much. I'd guess somewhere relatively quiet, but not hidden or anything, so we could find him if we need him."

I nod, internally debating whether or not to go look for him. "And what about the mabari?"

He chuckles. "They were getting in the way of the healers, so we banished them to the stables until things settle down a bit. They're both fine."

"Thank you." I smile at him. "You make a fine commander, to have handled things so well."

Gabriel just smiles at that. "I had help, no? Varel knows his way around a battlefield, and whatever it was exactly Kiv _did_ before joining the Wardens, it certainly gave him the ability to look at things in an unconventional manner."

"I think rogues just do that by default," I riposte with a giggle. I scrape the last bite of stew out of my bowl and then stand, offering him a hand up. "Now, if you'll excuse, I want to go see my mabari. And then maybe hunt down a certain mage."

Gabriel accepts the hand up, the teasing light of some comment he _could_ make dancing in his eyes, but he doesn't say it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Hey, are you heading back to the keep?"

He nods. "That I am."

I hand him my bowl and spoon. "Could you give those back to the cook for me, please? Fade won't pay me any mind if I bring in something that smells like food." I laugh at the look the warrior gives me, before offering a teasing salute and making his way to the keep. I, on the other hand, make a beeline for the stables, where I'm greeted by an overly-enthusiastic mountain of tan fur. I let out a half-giggled shriek of protest when Fade knocks me off my feet, but immediately wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his fur. "Gee, boy, you miss me?"

I get my answer in the form of a happy bark, followed shortly by a face bath from a long, pink tongue.

_A/N: Ay, yi yi. Long chapter is long. xD And the crazy thing is, I could keep going. I could easy make this chapter seven or eight pages instead of five and a half. But I need to save some material for next time. =) And I was so very tempted to cut off the chapter when Rahna asked Gabriel about Jowan. Like, you have NO IDEA. But I decided to be nice and not do that(*cough* for once...). As I'm sure you noticed, I am trying to stick pretty close to canon endings for the game characters(Nate and Sigrun I'm going to play with the longer-range parts a bit, combine outcomes from a couple different options. It's gonna be awesome. You'll see). This means I get to have fun with my OCs(and Jowan, since obviously he's not at the Vigil in the game). And speaking of Jowan... sorry, but you have to wait 'til next week to see his and Rahna's reunion. I need extra time to figure out how much fun to have with this. *evil laugh* _


	69. Rubbing Off On You

69. Rubbing Off on You

"Fade, stop!" The order, such as it is, gets lost under another fit of giggles, so I can't fault the mabari for not obeying. He's still wriggling and licking my face, nearly exploding with pure doggy joy at getting to see me again. I clench my fingers even more tightly into his fur as he threatens to knock me flat on my back with the tongue-bath my face is getting. "Fade!"

The low chuckle that comes from somewhere past Fade is the first sign I'm not the only one out here. I fold my legs under me, sitting on my calves and still scratching Fade behind the ears as I look past him.

"Commander." My unofficial second in command is giving me a knowing grin from not ten paces away, crouching next to his own mabari, his fingers scratching lazy circles through the short brown fur on Honey's stomach.

"Nate." I grin back."I see I wasn't the only one to get an overly-enthusiastic greeting." My grin widens when I notice the twin smudges on the front of his short-sleeved tunic, roughly the size and shape of pawprints. "At least Fade has clean paws," I tease.

Nathaniel looks down at Honey, who responds to his attention with a happy bark, and then back up at me before simply replying, "It's nice to be missed."

"That it is, my friend," I agree. Fade nudges me as my scratching slows when I talk, and I laugh as I resume, earning deep whimpers of pleasure from the mabari as he plants his hindquarters on the stable floor to indicate we'll probably be here a while. "By the way, Nathaniel, Anders tells me I should thank you for carrying me back after I passed out from exhaustion. So thanks for that."

He shrugs. "It was nothing, Rahna."

"Please, I'm not that lightweight. And 'sides wasn't your arm still sore?"

He shrugs again, shaking his head. "Just a little. And not enough to stop me."

I smile at that. "I knew there was a reason I liked having you around." My smile widens at the look I get from the archer for that comment, but then I sober up. "All joking aside, Nathaniel, I honestly don't know what I would do without you. I can't tell you what it's meant to me, knowing that you have my back-even if you don't always agree with my choices. So thank you for that, as well."

"You're welcome," he replies softly, seeming lost in thought. "And thank you for trusting me, even when most people wouldn't and despite the fact I don't always agree with you."

I chuckle at that. "I think I've trusted you since the day you had the guts to come back and ask me to make you a Warden."

A wry grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I'm nothing if not persistant."

"That's also called _stubborn_, ya know," I tease. "I'm like that, too." I cast a reluctant glance at Fade, who's looking at me like he's enjoying this far too much and expects more attention. "I should probably go continue checking on things," I sigh. "I mean, between Anders and Gabriel, I have a good idea of how things stand, but I should still-"

"Go, Rahna," Nathaniel chuckles. "I'm sure there are still friends you want to see." The arched eyebrow says he knows more than he's saying.

I roll my eyes. "Is this revenge for the whole matchmaking thing? Because I'm not sorry, and I'm never going to be."

He chuckles again. "_Go_."

"Fine, fine," I mutter with a sigh of mock resignation, pushing to my feet and heading for the door, Fade at my heels. "No, boy you need to stay here." He whines but obeys, curling up and falling asleep as I leave.

**oOo**

Before I go looking for Jowan, I decide to check in on the others. I don't know why I keep putting it off, to be honest. Not sure what to say, maybe. Or wanting to let him get more sleep. Whatever the reason, Sigrun and Syn look happy enough to see me I feel a little less guilty.

"Hey, Commander," the rogue greets me with a wave as I approach. She and Syn are both sitting cross-legged on the latter's bed, playing a card game. I can see bandages peeking out from one of Syn's rolled-up sleeves as I draw closer and return the greeting, but the more obvious ones are wrapped around the dwarf's head.

She see me looking and shrugs. "Never underestimate a shriek." She pinches her card in one hand and raises the other to tug on the swath of bandages that cover her right eye. "They aren't very forgiving."

"So what's the damage, exactly?" I ask, leaning against the wall next to her bed.

"Couple a' gashes just below my elbow, and a few really nasty ones up here." Syn taps the bandages on her head. "Cost me m' eye." She grins. "Kiv doesn't seem t' mind though. So I'll manage to pull through."

I laugh. "Well, that's good. From what I hear, they need warriors like you in the Free Marches. It would be a shame to deprive them."

"What, one-eyed dwarves are suddenly in high demand?" she chuckles.

"Long as they can still fight, I don't see why not," I return. I lean over and confide in a near-whisper, "You know, I can only see out of one eye. They haven't kicked me out yet."

"Point, Commander," she concedes with a laugh.

"I'll let you two get back to your game." I see Anders at the far end of the room and head for him, in as straight a line as I can manage with the way the room is set up.

"Hey, boss," the mage greets me with a tired smile, leaning back against the wall like that all that's keeping him on his feet.

"Hey, yourself. How're you holding up?"

He shrug, stifling a yawn. "I'm managing."

I raise an eyebrow, but let it slide. "And your patients?"

"Varel's doing better. He was actually conscious for a few minutes while you were outside, Rahna."

"Damn, I wanted to talk to him..." I mutter.

"I can show you where his bed is, if you want to take up a vigil," Anders teases, pushing away from the wall. He sways and nearly falls over, prompting me to grab his arm.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I demand as I let go.

He nods, massaging his forehead as if rubbing away a headache. "Just got a little dizzy's all."

I can see the fine tremor of exhaustion shaking his hands, how huge the circles under his eyes seem to have gotten in the past twenty minutes. "Y'know what, I don't believe you. I think you're one spell away from passing out."

"No, Rahna, I'm-"

"Anders, you're getting rest if I have to knock you out to make sure you get it."

"But then there won't be anyone to take care of the wounded," he mutters in protest.

"How much sleep has Jowan gotten by this point?" I demand, now having more than one reason to find him.

Anders shrugs. "I dunno; if he found someplace and went to sleep as soon as Gabriel told him to... eight hours, maybe?"

"That'll have to do. I can't have you killing yourself anymore than I can have him doing it." I drag the protesting healer over to a bench. "You sit right there until I get back. No arguments," I cut him off when he opens his mouth.

"Fine, fine." Anders leans back against the wall with a sigh. "I'll be right here, then. Hurry back, boss."

_Five silvers says he's asleep-or at least well on the way-when I get back,_ I bet myself as I set off to search for Jowan.

**oOo**

It doesn't take long to find him, in keeping with Gabriel's comment that he didn't think the mage would go somewhere hidden. I have to grin when I do find him, though; his kicked-off boots lay in a jumbled heap under the only chair in the room, socks dropped on top of them and his shirt and belt tossed haphazardly over the back of the chair. The mage himself is sprawled facedown on the bed, one arm buried under the pillow and the other hanging off the edge of the bed.

_Jowan, Jowan, Jowan..._ I bite back a chuckle as I climb up on the bed next to him. _What am I gonna do with you?_ I know I can't really blame him for being a slob; utter exhaustion can do that to a person, but it still makes me want to laugh. _Well, now for the hard part..._ "Jowan, I need you you to get up."

It's a good thing I wasn't expecting an immediate response, because there isn't one.

I swallow another giggle. _Here we go again._ "Jowan." Louder this time. "Jowan, wake _**up**_."

Still nothing. Not a groan, grumble, or half-hearted attept to wave me off.

I raise one eyebrow. I know he's got to be tired, but I always get _some_ response out of him by the second try. "_**Jowan**_." I nudge his shoulder. When I still get nothing, I frown. _You __**are**__ still alive, right?_ I lean over and listen until I hear him breathing. _Phew._ "I swear, Jowan... _Wake up_." I nudge him harder.

At least this time I get a barely audible grunt out of him.

"C'mon, ser mage. Anders is about to pass out from exhaustion and we need you to be healer on duty." I smirk to myself and reach down to tickle the bottom of his foot.

It jerks away and he mumbles something I don't catch.

"Jowan, I'm serious. I know you're still short on sleep, but please get up," I put a wheedling note in my voice. "Before I play dirty."

"Mmm."

I laugh, ignoring the frantic part of my brain that's chanting _hurry, hurry, hurry_. "C'mon, please?" My grin turns fiendish, even though he can't see me, as I walk my fingers up his back to tug on the end of his ruined ponytail. "For me?"

"Tha's _cheating_," he mumbles, sounding peeved, without even opening an eye.

I sit back on my heels and sigh. "And I'm desperate. Trust me, if I could, I'd let you sleep the day away. Maker knows you need it. But Anders is nearly dead on his feet, and I need you out there."

This time he moves a little, as if he's at least trying. "'M too tired..."

I really, truly hate myself for having to do this, but I can't let Anders keep pushing his limits like he is, or he'll kill himself. "Jowan, I was serious about playing dirty, and I didn't mean the 'For me'," I warn.

He just grumbles into his pillow and doesn't move.

"Okay, fine." _Time to test that tip Miri gave me ages ago..._ I lean forward again and reach over him to tickle just below the right side of his ribcage.

_That _works. Jowan yelps, rolling over and yanking my hand away almost in one motion, and shoots me a dirty look. "Don't. Do that."

I just grin at him. "I missed you, too."

Jowan rolls his eyes, the dirty look softening to a smile. "I missed you, Rahna, I'm glad you're okay, Rahna, don't scare me like that, Rahna. How's that?"

I giggle and concede, "Much better," as I scoot closer and hug him. "Maker, I was worried about you," I admit in a whisper.

"The ever-confident Rahna Tabris was actually worried?" I can hear the smile in his voice as he hugs me back and know he's teasing me.

"Hey, we were getting very, very bad reports of how things were going here, and I have a lot of friends in this place," I defend myself, sitting back on my heels again. "Between you and Gabriel and-and Varel... I was nearly going out of my mind," I rub the back of my neck sheepishly as I admit, "But I was mostly worried about you."

He grins at that. "I must be rubbing off on you."

"Oh, Maker, I hope not." I make a face at him when he shoots me a pretend-hurt look. "C'mon, I was serious about Anders being nearly dead on his feet. I need you out there."

Jowan nods and fights a yawn. "Be right out," he promises, his left hand appearing from under the pillow to rake his hair out of his face. He's barely finished doing so when I notice something, frown, and grab his arm. "Rah-_na_!"

"What happened here?" I demand, rubbing my thumb over the makeshift bandage clumsily wrapped around his palm and wrist.

He gently uncurls my fingers from their vice grip and pulls his hand free. "I had a face-off with a hurlock emissary, didn't get out of the way _quite _fast enough when it resorted to fireballs." He rolls his eyes at my expression and taps the end of my nose as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. "Rahna, I'm fine. It's just a minor burn, doesn't even really hurt."

"I... guess I'll take your word for it," I mutter, still casting a glance at the bandages as I climb off the bed and toss him his shirt. "Can I at least rewrap it for you? That bandage looks 'bout ready to fall off."

Jowan shrugs as he pulls the shirt over his head. "Guess so. But don't you need me out there?"

I nod. "Yep. Rather desperately. As in, don't bother with shoes. I'll worry about your hand after we get out there." I grab his good hand and all but drag him from the room, hearing him chuckle as he kicks the door shut behind us.

**oOo**

When we get out to where I left Anders, I can't help but smirk, because sure enough, the blond mage is asleep on the bench. Head pillowed on his arm, legs hanging off the end of the bench, it looks like a singularly uncomfortable position to sleep in, but when I move to wake him so he can go find a proper bed, the golden tabby curled up on his shoulder hisses at me.

"Fine, Pounce, you win," I mutter as I retreat. "I knew he was gonna fall asleep..." I look up at Jowan. "Well, I guess you're on duty, soon as I take care of those bandages nearly falling off your hand."

He hold out his hand and gives me a lopsided grin. "As you wish, Commander."

"No titles," I growl. "Just Rahna."

His grin widens, somehow managing to stay lopsided. "Yes, ser."

I sigh in exasperation, cursing the fact he didn't pull his hair back so there's no ponytail for me to yank. "Damn mage. I rather think _I've _rubbed off on _you_, not the other way around."

He just chuckles... and keeps grinning at me.

_A/N: Oh, Maker, that was fun to write. 8D And I mean the whole thing, but especially the part with Rahna and Jowan. I've said it before and I'll say it again: They are just too fun to write together. Yay for character growth! And I may or may not have giggled like a maniac picturing grumpy!Jowan glaring at Rahna. I regret notthhhingggg. XD Also, sorry this is late. Our internet's been out all week, and I had a commitment this morning, so wasn't able to get to the library to post 'til now. ;)_


	70. Rebuilding

70. Rebuilding

It's hard work putting a fortress back together. I learn this firsthand in the days following our return to the Vigil. With how many soldiers were seriously injured or killed, anyone able to help with cleaning up does so. Even me. I've never been the kind who could just sit and watch other people work without doing something to help. But the fact no one protests at the commander getting her hands dirty right alongside her men just serves to remind me how much damage the Mother's forces were able to cause.

The only ones who get out of helping with the more physical labor are the mages and the herbalists; for obvious reasons. We need them inside taking care of the wounded.

"Rahna, give me a hand with this!" Gabriel grunts with exertion as he tries to lever a crossbeam out of the rubble, quickly figuring out it's not a one-man job. I abandon the rocks I was in the process of moving and dash over to help him. We each wedge a shoulder underneath the beam and drag it out of the heap, one agonizingly slow inch at a time.

"You doin' okay?" I ask when I see him wince. I know his ribs are still sort of bothering him-despite him swearing up and down they don't hurt anymore. He and Kiv both are adamant that, thanks to the magical assistance the healing process got, they're fine and perfectly capable of helping. I think they're both fudging the truth just a little bit; broken ribs hurt for a good long while, even after they've technically healed.

"I'm... fine," he pants, gripping the beam tighter to get it over a small rock that lies in our path. It still proves a nearly insurmountable obstacle until Kiv joins us and lifts the back end of the beam high enough to clear the rock.

"There you go," he grins, his smile lopsided under the purplish-yellow bruises that still surround his left eye.

"Thanks," I grin back. "Sometimes you just need a little extra push."

"And sometimes you just plain old need help. You do realize this thing probably weighs almost as much as the two of you put together, yes?"

"So?" I quirk an eyebrow at him.

"So, there's a saying about many hands making light work," he shoots back, gripping the end of the beam more tightly so he can lift it off the ground. "Let's get this thing to one of the piles."

I'm not going to argue or turn away help, so we just resume course for one of the salvage piles. Heavy as the beam is, it's definitely sound and therefore can be used in rebuilding one of the spots that was destroyed. It's also still hard to lug around, even with three of us, and we're all sweating rivers by the time we get it to the pile in question.

Gabriel and Kiv solve this problem by pulling off their shirts and using them to mop up the sweat before tossing the garments aside.

"Okay, that's just not fair," I mutter under my breath, swiping at the perspiration coating my forehead as I follow them back to the wall.

"You say something, Rahna?" Kiv asks, raising an eyebrow and smirking at me.

"No." I shake my head. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what I consider more unfair about this; that the two of them can do _that_-even if it's not terribly hot out, we're working hard, which means sweat-or that I'm stuck watching a couple of totally attractive and equally unavailable elves walk around shirtless. _Hey, no harm in __**looking**__... I know they're both taken. Damn, Miri and Syn are lucky..._ I nearly laugh out loud at the fact my mind even went there, considering six months ago I would have been too lost in thoughts of Alistair to give a fig. _Ah, progress..._ I chuckle to myself as we wrestle free another beam and start dragging it toward the salvage pile as well.

"Care to let us in on the joke, Rahna?" Gabriel teases.

"In your dreams," I shoot back, smirking at him and waggling my eyebrows.

**oOo**

If practice made perfect, Jowan was convinced he'd be the second-best healer in Thedas by the end of the week. Best, of course, would still be Anders. The man pushed himself harder than Jowan would have thought humanly possible, making it work with a lot of lyrium potions and rejuvanation spells.

"You do realize you're going to develop a horrible addiction to that stuff if you keep this up, right?" he finally felt compelled to point out when he found the blond downing his third potion of the day shortly after lunch.

Anders shook his head, swirling the last third of the potion around in the vial. "Occupational hazard in the aftermath of a battle like this one," he shot back. "You want the last of this one? You have to need _something_, you've been working almost as hard as I have for hours. And you're starting to get pale. Well, pal_er_."

"Thanks a lot,"Jowan muttered, biting back a wry smile as he shot the other mage a dirty look and internally debated if he should take him up on the offer. The buzz of exhaustion _had_ started tickling the back of his mind again, and he knew even just the amount of lyrium left in the bottle would help a lot.

Anders grinned at him. "It's been, what, a year since you left the tower? Two? I would've expected you to get a _little_ bit of sun. How in the blazes are you still just as pale as you were before you left?"

Jowan chuckled and held out his hand for the last of the lyrium potion. "This is what happens when you only travel at night and get really good at finding and hiding in caves. Oh, and spend a few months locked in a dungeon."

"And what about after you joined the Wardens?" Anders raised an eyebrow as he handed the potion over.

"I spent a lot of time in the Deep Roads."

"Oooh, fun," Anders muttered sarcastically.

"Aside from all the darkspawn, I didn't mind it." Jowan shrugged. "Guess I'd been hiding for so long I liked being where almost no one could find me."

"That's another thing; how is it exactly you managed to stay escaped longer'n I ever did?" Anders' eyebrow quirked upward again.

Jowan grinned. "I'm good at blending in and _not_ being the center of attention. Unlike you."

"I think there may be an insult in there somewhere, I just can't figure out _where_," Anders grumbled.

"No, just fact. You've _never_ been good at blending in." Jowan snorted a wry laugh and leaned his head back against the wall behind them. "'Course, part of it was probably that an _apostate_ just gets dragged back to the Circle in chains, while a _maleficar_ gets killed on the spot," he pointed out. "I had just a bit more at stake than you did on any of your tries."

"I concede the point," Anders nodded. "On that subject, how exactly'd _you_ learn blood magic? You never struck me as the type to pal around with demons."

Jowan grimaced and shook his head. "No demons involved." He downed the partial lyrium potion then, his grimace deepening briefly at the taste.

"No demons? How'd you manage _that_? T'hear the Chantry tell it, that's the only way to learn blood magic."

"It was a book." Jowan raked one hand through his hair. "Uldred, um, gave me a book about blood magic. He knew somehow that I was, um," he cleared his throat sheepishly, "far from the best at casting, told me if I had difficulty mastering my _will_, there were other paths, and handed me a book." He shook his head. "And like an _idiot_ I actually believed it could be that simple."

"It wasn't?"

"Oh, it was easy enough to _learn_. Hiding it, however... You know how curious Miri is. One cut on the back of my arm isn't so hard to explain away, but two or three takes a bit more work." Jowan sighed. "And I have no idea how Lily didn't figure it out before our escape attempt. After I escaped, I hated it-and myself-for all trouble it had caused, swore to never use it again. The fact Rahna doesn't like it has made that promise easier to keep than it might've been otherwise."

"Rahna, huh?" Anders grinned at him.

Jowan shook his head. "Nothing like that, much as Miri would like it to be," he chuckled. "Rahna and I are friends, nothing more. But I do owe her for saving my sorry hide and for being daft enough to think I'd make a good Warden."

"From what I've seen-and what she's said-she wasn't so daft," Anders retorted.

Jowan didn't get a chance to reply to that as one of the herbalist hollered that they needed help. "Back to work?"

"Looks like,"Anders replied. Both of them pushed off the wall and waded back into the sea of wounded to find out what needed to be done.

**oOo**

This work is slow going, which drives me crazy. I am not a patient person, so the tedious process of dragging things away from the walls to either keep or dispose of grates on my nerves like nobody's business. There's just so much to do, I can't seem to focus on any one task for long. Gabriel has to more or less force me to take a break and eat something halfway through the day.

"C'mon, Rahna. You need a break-and to eat something, and this is the time of day to do it." He grabs my wrist and tugs me down to sit next to him.

I plop down with an irritated huff. I know he's right, but I don't want to stop. "Fine, fine. But we've hardly made any progress and-"

"And there's no reason to hurry, _mon ami_," he points out as he hands me a tankard of water and some food. "The darkspawn are dead or disappeared, and between them and you I sincerely doubt there are any bandits left alive to be a problem, no?"

"True," I concede with a laugh, leaning forward to brace my forearms against my knees. "However, I think those of you who were here did more to wipe out the darkspawn than I did. I mean, from what I heard, the Mother sent most of her troops here."

"Sure seemed that way," Kiv agrees with a grin. "I sure killed enough..."

Gabriel smirks at him. "Not as many as I did, though."

Kiv shoots him a dirty look. "Oh, shut it."

"And I believe you still owe me ten silver for that ogre, do you not?" the redhead presses, still smirking.

Kiv kicks a pebble at him. "I'll pay up, don't worry. Patience is a virtue, ser Andras."

"Funny how you only pull that line out when you owe me money," Gabriel teases.

I raise an eyebrow at the pair of them. "This happens often then?"

They both laugh. "Yes."

"It's part of the nature of our friendship," Gabriel elaborates. "We're always wagering on things. I'll bet him five silver something will happen, or he'll bet me five silver so-and-so will win their next duel; things like that."

I chuckle. "What's the most one of you has lost in these friendly little wagers?"

"Twenty silver," Kiv mutters, his tan skin not hiding how red the confession's made his face. He clears his throat. "I bet him twenty silver I'd beat you in our duel back at Weisshaupt. Needless to say, I, um, didn't win."

That earns another chuckle from me. "Someone was feeling rather confident of his skills."

He shrugs. "I figured there were other aspects to being a leader than just being a kick-ass fighter and thought maybe you were more strategist or diplomat. Maker, was I wrong," he laughs.

"It happens to the best of us," I rib, grinning.

"Even you?"

"On occasion." I shrug. "Not often, but it has happened." I gulp down most of my water in one go and toy with the idea of flicking what's left at the two of them. However, before I can act on the impulse, I'm distracted by the sight of someone coming our way from the keep. "Jowan, doesn't Anders need you?"

He nods. "Mm-hm. But everyone else was busy and I kind of wanted to be the one to tell you."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Tell me what?"

"Varel wants to talk to you," he informs me with a grin.

I jump up and shove what's left of my lunch-which is almost all of it-into Gabriel's hands. "Lead the way."

**oOo**

I'm glad I have Jowan to show me where to go. To hear him tell it, Varel started on a cot near the door when he was immediate danger of dying, but once he was more or less "safe" they moved him further in. He's now somewhere near the back of the infirmary, and given how easily I get lost, I would _never_ have found him on my own.

"Commander, glad to see you're alright," Varel greets me, his voice an octave lower and even raspier than usual, thanks to blood loss and the whole 'almost dying' thing.

I shoot him an incredulous look. "Same to you, seneschal," I reply, reaching to clasp his forearm in a military greeting. "Though I think it's far more warranted in your case. What did I say about getting yourself killed?"

He matches my gesture, using the leverage provided to pull himself more into a sitting position and laughs. "I believe you only told me no more diving in front of arrows, ser. You never said a word regarding ogres."

_Yeah, you're gonna be fine. _I chuckle. "I thought 'No playing chicken with an ogre' kind of went without saying," I retort. "I need you around for a while yet. No dying."

Varel laughs again, only this time it turns into a cough. "I can't promise anything, Commander," he replies once he catches his breath. "I'm not going to let anything happen to the Vigil-or you-no matter what it costs me personally."

"How is it I keep winding up with stubbornly heroic men under my command?" I ask him, laughing to hide the fact I'm actually tearing up a little at his words.

He shrugs and smiles at me. "Like attracts like, I suppose."

"Hm, talking to you is good for my ego," I tease, absently brushing back hair that's worked loose from my pigtails. _Maker, it's long enough I can almost get a braid..._ "I should do it more often."

His smile widens. "Happy to be of service, Commander."

"Jowan said you wanted to talk to me. What about?" I twirl one of my pigtails.

"I wanted to know about the city; how things stand there." He coughs again, but makes a dismissive gesture when he sees my worried look. "I'll be fine No need to fuss."

"Okay, fine, fine. But why ask me?"

He rubs one hand through his hair. "Because Anders is too busy and I figure you're a good storyteller."

"Mmm... I s'ppose I'm decent," I concede with a laugh, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I'll give you the short version; Gabriel and Kiv'll have my hide if I stay in here too long and leave all the hard work to them..." I proceed to give him the condensed version of what happened in Amaranthine City and after. "...And I missed out on the trip back, because I passed out from exhaustion."

"Can't really blame you for that, Commander. I'm surprised the others didn't as well," Varel comments. "Thank you for filling me in."

"You're welcome. I should probably get back to work," I sigh. "Get some rest, seneschal. I need you to bark orders for me and all."

He chuckles. "Of course, ser."

"And no more tangling with ogres, either."

"I'm afraid I can't make any promises there, Commander." he replies with a grin, amusement dancing in his eyes. "But I'll do my best."

"You'd better," I mutter, grinning as I leave to track down Gabriel and Kiv.

_A/N: And there we go: Varel's going to be fine. Eventually. =D Anyone who was worried can now let out that breath you were holding, because I solemnly swear there will be no relapsing or anything horrible for him. I like him too much. xD And I apologize(okay, not really...) for the blatant fanservice moment of Gabriel and Kiv being shirtless. I know they have fans(Gabriel probably more than Kiv), and y'all deserve some fanservice. I've done shirtless!Anders, shirtless!Jowan(at least three times...), so have some love for the OCs. xDD And I had to giggle when Rahna was checking them out, because that's a HUGE amount of progress for her. If I'd tried something like that a few months back in her timeline, the muse would have been swearing a blue streak at me(which she almost never does) and refusing to cooperate. Ah, character growth. It's a lovely thing, isn't it? ;)_


	71. Focus

71. Focus

Almost as if the assurance Varel's going to be alright was my cue to stop worrying so much, I feel as if I'm no longer carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I know just because he's out of the woods doesn't mean _everyone_ who was injured is; Oghren and a lot of the rank and file soldiers are still not looking good, and from the few minutes I manage to snatch to talk to Anders, I know he's really, really worried about Garevel.

But Varel's recovery is only just shy of miraculous, to hear the herbalist's assistants talk. So I focus on that, thanking the Maker for what I _won't _lose and trying not to dwell on what I might still lose. That's the only way to survive under circumstances like this. Despair can kill surely as a blade. I'll still have Varel, Aimon and-unfortunately-Zimri will both be fine, and Syn's recovering fast. She's already trying to figure out the best way to make an eyepatch work with her ponytail. There are times I wonder if she and Sigrun are related, cheeriness is such a second nature to both of them.

_Sure, a noble and a duster; I can definitely see them being related... _I smirk at the thought as I head to the stables to spend some time with Fade. He and Honey have been stuck out here ever since the battle, because we don't want them getting in the way or getting hurt. I know they're both going stir-crazy with so little space, but neither Nathaniel nor I want to risk anything happening to them. I don't have much time; it'll be dark soon, and there are no torches out here for obvious reasons.

The door creaks as I open it, and the two mabari look up at me as I slip in, both of them wagging their tails but neither looking terribly inclined to get up from where they're curled up together.

"Hey, Fade," I greet mine softly. While his tail starts wagging faster, he still doesn't move, his chin resting on Honey's back and hers laying on top of his paws. "Oh, I see how it is. Found another woman, did you?"

He lets out an affirmative sounding _ruff,_ and I'd swear Honey smiles at me.

"You two are just adorable," I mutter as I sit down next to Fade and start scratching between his ears. "You're going to be absolutely crazy when we let you out of here, though, aren't you?" I get a plaintive whine in answer, which makes me smile. "I know, I know. You don't like being cooped up. But there's too much going on out there. We don't want you getting hurt or in the way or anything."

Fade lets out a huff as if to tell me that's silly; they're smart enough to stay out of the way and out of trouble.

"Oh, I know," I repeat. "But better safe then sorry, right?"

He huffs again, the air rushing out through his nose in a sound much like the ones Soris used to make when he knew I'd won an argument and just didn't want to admit it.

The thought makes me laugh, and I rough Fade's ears. "I wonder what Soris would think of me comparing him to my dog..." I mumble as I lean my head back against the wall, feeling suddenly homesick at the thought of my cousin. _Now that the Vigil's safe, maybe I'll go visit them. It's been months, and I've ben horrible about writing..._ A wry smirk tugs my lips at the thought; I managed to remember to write Jowan-multiple times-but never bothered to write Shianni or my father._ I'm a terrible person... But I would feel bad leaving when there's still so much to do getting this place back in shape. And I should probably wait to leave until Gabriel and the others are on their way to the Marches. For which we need Stroud back. _The warrior still hasn't returned from the city, and I can't help but wonder why. I'll have to ask him when he gets back. But for now, I'll focus on helping with repairs to the Vigil and making sure things run smoothly. _Can't wait 'til Varel's back on his feet to help with that._

**oOo**

I sit with the mabari until the sun starts to set, and then reluctantly push away from the wall, trying to ignore the puppy dog eyes I'm getting from Fade, and stand up. It's getting dark, and with the piles of debris still littering the courtyard, I want to still have enough light to see by so I don't trip over anything on my way back to the keep. As I get closer, I hear voices, probably people sitting on the front steps. Sigrun's is the first I can recognize.

"Could you set that bush on fire?" she's asking someone, her tone mischievous and cheerful and so very _her_. I'm close enough now, I can see her pointing at what is perhaps the only bush left inside the walls of the keep, a scrubby, determined little thing that looks lopsided thanks to losing some branches during the course of the battle.

"Probably, but why would I want to?" I hear Anders return lazily, sounding like he's trying not to laugh.

"Ooh, could you _freeze_ it?" Syn pipes up eagerly, leaning forward to brace her elbows against her knees.

"Why do you two want me to kill the bush?" Anders isn't even trying to hide the fact he's laughing now.

"Because it's _there_!" Syn replies, grinning at the mage.

"Yeah, it's an _evil_ bush!" Sigrun adds. "Do it!"

"Magic isn't for your amusement, ladies," Anders scolds teasingly. "Why don't I just do a little dance? Anders' Spicy Shimmy?" I can hear him humming a tune, but unfortunately the light's too dim by this point for me to make out his idea of a dance.

I can, however, hear the dwarves' reaction; a chorused, "Oh, eww. Pass!"

"You wound me, fair ladies," Anders chuckles as he sits back down.

"Dare I ask what's going on?" I raise an eyebrow at the trio as I approach.

"Nothing!" they reply in unison.

"I don't believe you," I retort with a grin. "But I'll let it slide. For now. Anders, what're you doing out here, anyway?"

He shrugs. "Jowan said he could handle things for a while, told me to take a break. All but threw me out," he chuckles. "What _have_ you done to that man?"

"Me? You're blaming me?" I drop down on the steps next to him and shoot him an incredulous look.

"He spends, what, six months "adventuring" with you and not only do you talk him into joining the Wardens, but somehow the guy who was perhaps the most timid apprentice in the Circle tower last time I saw him has gotten enough self-confidence to essentially order me to take a break. He's all bossy now, so yes, I blame you."

I grin back. "And I will happily take that blame, if you put it like that."

Anders laughs and tugs one of my pigtails. "Minx."

"Hey, helping him get rid of a character flaw is nothin' to be ashamed of. I think you don't like it 'cause it means you can't boss him around," I tease, retaliating with a yank on his ponytail.

"I admit to nothing," he returns, still grinning as he bats my hand away.

"How's it going in there, by the way?" I ask, leaning back on my elbows.

Anders sighs and winces, suddenly much more sober. "We... lost a couple militia towards the end of the day. One to injuries, another to... to darkspawn corruption."

I match his wince. "I'm sorry. I know it's hard." _Especially losing them like __**that**__._

He rubs one hand over his face, as if trying to scrub away images I know he'll never truly lose. "That it is. Is this what it's like, being a Warden?"

"Is what what it's like?"

"Losing people." His voice is grim, and while I can't see his face in the rapidly fading light, I hear the weariness in his tone. "Good people, people who aren't Wardens and shouldn't even be involved."

"Yes," I reply simply, knowing he won't appreciate it if I lie or beat around the bush. "Yes, this is part of what it is to be a Warden. There are nights it takes me hours to get to sleep because I can't stop seeing the faces of the people I couldn't save. The ones I lost or didn't reach in time." I can't help but think of Keenan.

"What makes it better?" Anders asks. "I mean, you know I have enough trouble sleeping as it is, thanks to the nightmares. I don't need a whole pack of ghosts making it worse."

I smile, even if he can't see it, part of me wondering why neither of the dwarves has chipped in. "The ones I did save."

"Huh?"

"I just focus on the people I did save. It sounds cliche, I know, but it's the only way I keep from drowning in the thought of those I lost."

"And it works?" He sounds doubtful.

"Yes." I'm mildly surprised when Syn replies with me.

"I've been fighting the darkspawn since I was fifteen," she continues. "Leading men in these fights since I was eighteen. The benefits of being nobility, I suppose, aye? The only way t' keep yourself from goin' mad thinkin' about the losses you suffer is to consciously think about the ones ya avoided instead." She rests her hand on the mage's shoulder for a moment. "It's still hard, I'm not going to deny that, but it's not as hard."

"Why's this bothering you now?" I can't help but ask. "I mean, there were a _lot_ of civilian casualties in the city, and I never caught you second-guessing things there. No judging or anything, but this just surprises me, is all."

"Because we were only there two nights," Anders explains. "Here I've spent a solid _**week**_ trying to save people, all the while knowing nearly half of them _can't_ be saved. That wears on a man."

"I know. Trust me." I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. "This is a reality I've lived with this for almost two years now. Just... don't let it get you too down. After all, who's gonna make me smile if you stay all mopey?"

"'M not moping!" he protests, and I think I hear the faintest echo of a laugh in there.

"Brooding, then?"

"No, that's Nathaniel's territory, and you know it," he shoots back and I _definitely _hear a smile in there now.

"An excellent point," I concede with a laugh as I stand. "Now, it's late, and I'm tired and sore, so I"m going to bed. You know where to find me if you need me."

"'Night, boss," the mage says as I make my way inside.

I don't see Jowan as I pass through the throne room, but the infirmary's expanded to take over so sodding much of the kep, that means nothing. He could be anywhere. I'm too worn out to go looking for him, so I just head for my room, kicking off my boots and tumbling into bed. For reasons I don't understand-maybe because I was thinking about my family earlier-I don't dream about darkspawn tonight.

**oOo**

_"Run! Now!" I'm already in motion, heeding my own exhortation as I turn to holler encouragement over my shoulder. "Soris, come on!"_

_ "Next time... you're... the distraction," he pants as he catches up to me and we scramble away from the small knot of humans who have only just started to pursue us._

_ I laugh and grab his arm to drag him down an alley. "This way. But I'm the better pickpocket and you know it." My left hand clenches tighter around my prize; a fat, bulging coin purse lifted off the youngest of the humans now squalling for the guards and chasing after us._

_ "Shianni'll have your hide, you realize that, don't you?" Soris points out as we dart down another alley, and then another._

_ "Mm-hm. It's worth it," I retort, hitting my knees and tugging him after me into the tight crawlspace under one of Denerim's poorer neighborhoods. "This way."_

_ One benefit to being an elf is being able to fit in smaller spaces than a human. Consequently, Soris and I have already belly-crawled five houses down the length of the crawlspace by the time our pursuers reach the point where we entered. We're far enough away I can't make out words in their babble, but I can make out a marked-and rising-level of frustration and bewilderment. They don't know where we went._

_ Still, I have a specific goal in mind, and crawl a few houses further down before reaching up to push aside some floorboards in the house above. After checking to make sure the house is still abandoned, which it is, I climb up into the room and offer Soris a hand doing the same. The two of us sit on the floor, backs against the wall, trying to catch our breath and calm our racing hearts._

_ "You okay?" I ask after a minutes. "That looks like it hurts."_

_ Soris almost absently rubs the bright red welt that's risen on his cheek, his reward for serving as my "distraction" with this particular group of nobles. "I'm fine, Cousin. I've been hit by shems with a much heavier hand than him, trust me."_

_ "Still, I didn't think he's actually hit you," I mutter. "Nobles usually won't deign to lower themselves __**that**__ far. Spit on you, maybe, but they usually won't hit you..."_

_ "So if it had only been my dignity that suffered, it would have been alright?" he asks, a twinkle in his eye. _

_ "Yep. Dignity is totally expendable," I laugh. "You wanna split the prize here, or after we get home?"_

_ "Maybe we should wait. Someone might find us here..."_

_ I just smile at his caution. I'm used to it by now. "Soris, this house has been abandoned since we were six. __**Six**__, cousin. D'you really think, after a solid __**decade**__ of not being used, someone's gonna happen to come today?"_

_ "You never know, he mutters, but he's shooting me a tolerant smile as he does._

_ "That's what makes it fun, " I retort. I tug open the drawstring on the coin purse and carefully spill our loot on the floor. "Sweet flamin' Andraste's __**arse**__!"_

_ "Rahna! Does your father know you talk like that?" Soris demands, his eyes big as saucers at my language. "My mother'd wash my mouth out with soap if she caught me saying such things!"_

_ "I don't talk like that in front of my father," I shoot back. "I'm not stupid. But Soris, have you ever seen that much gold before?"_

_ What I was expecting to be a purse of silvers, maye with a handful of coppers thrown in the mix, is mostly silvers with a heavy, __**heavy**__ seasoning of gold sovereigns. I think if every able-bodied elf in the Alieange worked their fingers to the bone for a full year, we could maybe earn this much._

_ Soris mutters something under his breath that may or may not have been an oath to match mine. "You sure know how to pick a mark, Rahna Tabris."_

_ "Much as I'd like to take credit, this one was pure dumb luck," I retort almost numbly, before I start dividing the spoils. _

_A/N: Have some younger!Rahna, because the rest of the chapter fought me tooth and nail. I had the absolute worst case of writer's block this week. It was SO annoying. TT_TT Plus, I had to work all day Friday, was at an out of state wedding on SAturday, and had my younger sister's dance recital on Sunday. So a vast portion of my writing time sorta went up in smoke. Still, it's done, and it's pretty good. I may, either next chapter or the one after that, flash to Miri, Vincent and Ashe. Just because I've been neglecting them and I wanna rectify that. So consider yourselves warned ;) _


	72. Interview With an Orlesian

72. Interview with an Orlesian

"Rahna."

I let out a disgruntled growl at the interruption of my dreams. Tonight's was a memory-one of my best-from before I joined the damned Wardens, and I'm more than a little pissed at the thought of losing it.

"Rahna, we need you to get up." This time I feel a hand come rest on my shoulder and give a light shake.

"Okay, okay, 'm up," I mutter as I roll over and sit up, raking my tangled hair out of my face. I raise an eyebrow when I see who it is that woke me. "Jowan?"

He give a wry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Trust me, the irony didn't escape me, either."

"So, what's so bloody important you couldn't let me sleep just a little bit longer?" I ask as I get out of bed.

He shrugs and follows me out of my room. "Anders wouldn't tell me; just said he needed to talk to you. Now."

"Hmph. Wonder what he thinks is so important." I stifle a yawn as I head for the throne room. "Where is he, exactly?"

"He _was _in there, last time I saw him. I dunno if he's gone elsewhere by now, though."

"It's a place to start, at least," I sigh. "I'll be glad when we don't have so many wounded that the 'infirmary' is actually half the bloody keep."

"I hear you on that," Jowan mutters, rubbing his forehead. "Even if most people are either getting better or... dead by this point, it's still a lot of work."

"You alright?" I ask.

"Mm-hm. Just tired's all," he mumbles in reply.

I frown in concern. "Seems like you're always tired lately..."

Jowan shrugs. "Comes with working so hard, Rahna."

"But _why_ are you working so hard? It's been two weeks, Jowan. Like you said, everyone's either getting better or dead now, and you're hardly the only one out there, so why are you still pushing yourself so damned hard?" My frown creases deeper. "What're you tryin' to prove?"

"_Nothing_," he mutters, heat in his voice for the first time since I met him.

"You sure about that? 'Cause in my experience, people don't nearly work themselves to death unless they're doing it for a reason. So what's your reason, huh?" Inwardly I'm wincing at the edge in my own voice, but I'm irritated at the thought Jowan might be hiding something from me, so I don't apologize for it.

"I... just need to." He's staring toward the end of the hallway rather than meet my eyes.

"Jowan." I force myself to swallow the irritation I'm feeling as I grab his wrist to make him stop and look at me. "I promise not to judge or anything." I offer him a small smile. "You know I'm curious about everything," I coax.

A wry smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "That I do know, better than most, I suspect."

I wrinkle my nose at him for that comment before prodding him again. "C'mon, please tell me."

"Like I said, Rahna: I have to."

"But _why_? Why are you so desperate to save these people?"

"_Because._" He doesn't elaborate, but something in his eyes fills in the missing pieces for me.

"Maker, you're... trying to make up for your past by saving them?" I can't keep the disbelief entirely out of my voice, and Jowan frowns.

"You said you weren't going to judge," he mutters.

"Sorry, I know. I'm not. I just... Sweet Andraste, Jowan, I thought you were past this."

"I was." He looks at me, and now I can see that what I thought was just 'tired' looks more like 'haunted' if you're really paying attention-which I've been too busy to really do the past couple weeks. "I started dreaming about Lily again last week."

I curse under my breath. "And what, you figure since you can't help her, you can at least help them?" _Maker, are his mistakes going to follow him forever?_

He just nods. "I have to do _something_, Rahna. And if I don't sleep, I can't dream."

"But why're you dreaming about her?"

Jowan shrugs. "I don't know. I mean, it's been just shy of two years since..." He clears his throat. "I last saw her. But not everything in life has an answer, Rahna. There might not _be_ any particular reason."

"Do you really believe that?" I ask. He just shrugs again. "Jowan, you know you _can_ talk to me, right?"

"I know," he nods. "Right now, you need to go talk to Anders. He made it sound pretty urgent."

"Alright..." I draw the word out, raising an eyebrow at the dark haired mage. He's not telling me something. I can tell.

"Rahna, I'll be fine. It's just bad dreams. Nothing like the darkspawn ones, trust me."

"Fine. Go save lives, or whatever you were doin'," I chuckle, waving him off. "I'll find Anders somehow."

He smiles and nods. "I'll do that."

We go our separate ways; him toward the part of the infirmary that's actually infirmary-which I know is where the worst-off patients are staying-and me toward the throne room to start looking for Anders.

**oOo**

Jowan listened to the sound of Rahna's footsteps fading behind him, mentally berating himself for being an idiot and trying to ignore the sour taste in his mouth that was too much like guilt.

After all, he hadn't _technically_ lied. His dreams about Lily didn't come every night, they were just bad dreams and nothing like the darkspawn nightmares all Wardens suffered.

There were times they were worse.

He'd been a Warden long enough, grown enough of a spine, fought enough darkspawn, that their appearance in his dreams no longer sent him cowering into the shadowed corners and hoping the monsters didn't see him.

But unending, gut-wrenching sobs from the woman who had landed in Aeonar because of him and his stupidity? Maker knew he wasn't _that_ strong. And he knew Rahna. She'd want to fix it, to help him. That was what she did for her friends.

But Jowan didn't think there was anything she could do. How do you stop a dream? So he had no intention of telling her just how bad these 'bad dreams' of his were. He knew he was an idiot to keep this from her, and if-when-she found out, he would mostly definitely hear about it for a long time. She would want to know why he hadn't told her if for no reason other than to not be carrying it alone. But he couldn't do that to her. She had enough to worry about without adding him to the list_._

**oOo**

I find Anders on the far side of the throne room, bickering with none other than Oghren. My relief that the dwarf is awake collides with a wry mental comment, _Some things never change..._ It's the latter reaction that pulls a chuckle from me as I approach the mage and warrior.

"Ah, the hero awakens," I tease, grinning.

"Hero?" Oghren echoes me dubiously. "I thought that was your gig, boss."

"Now, apparently, we get to share. Considering the soldiers you saved won't shut up about it." I feel my grin widen.

"Mmm," he grunts. "Well, then, this here hero wants some ale. I'm parched."

"Aye, aye, ser," Anders laughs, and produces a mug of ale, which he hands to the dwarf.

"Huh. Maybe yer not all bad," Oghren mutters, sniffing the contents. "Sparklefingers..."

"Yes, I missed you, too," Anders retorts, rolling his eyes. "It's not poisoned or anything."

"Just weak," Oghren snorts. "All you surfacers drink is the weak stuff."

"Is this why you had Jowan come wake me up, Anders?" I ask, elbowing the mage.

"Part of it, yes. I was gonna do the whole 'I have good news, and I have bad news' thing, but apparently, you're easier to wake up than a certain mage I won't name." He grins at me. "So I didn't have time to get away and say my piece before you saw the good news part too early and ruined my whole plan."

"Well, if Oghren's the good news part, what's the ba- Garevel didn't die, did he?" I demand.

"No, no, no. He's actually starting to do better," Anders assures me. "Finally. The bad news part is that Zimri wants to talk to you. He's been a pain in the arse for days, and I finally asked what it would take to make him happy and he said he wanted to talk to you."

I groan. "Wonderful."

"Probably going to request you execute me and Jowan, hand over command of the Vigil and treat him like the royalty he apparently believes he is," the mage grins.

"And he wouldn't get any of it," I growl. "He keeps up this unreasonable suspicion and hatred toward mages and I'm gonna get him posted somewhere he has no choice but to be absolutely surrounded by them." I hesitate for a moment. "There's not the faintest bit of a chance he has an even somewhat legitimate complaint, is there? Because if there is and I refuse to do anything about it, you can bet your arse that prig will involve Weisshaupt. And I do _not_ need that right now."

He shakes his head. "No, boss. Despite my threats to the contrary, I've given him the same amount of attention I gave anyone else who wasn't in a life-or-death state. Granted, my bedside manner may have been a bit more lacking with him than the others, but I behaved myself. His legs were just broken really bad."

I nod. "Fine. Where is he?"

**oOo**

In the shuffle to make the neediest patients the easiest to access, Zimri ended up on a cot in the hallway between the infirmary and its throne room extension. This is one of many things he's unhappy about, and all to willing to lay blame for when I find him.

"Hmmph. Certainly took you long enough, Commander. I told that mage this hallway was too remote, no? But he would not listen to me."

"Whichever mage you're talking about, they both know what they're doing, Caron," I retort, already feeling my temper rise. "They need to be able to get to the people who are still in bad shape more than they need to be able to attend to the every whim of the ones who are well on their way to recovery."

"'Well on their way'? _Par les larmes de Andrasté_, is that what they say I am?" Zimri gestures toward his legs, twin lumps under his blanket. "I am no fool, Commander."

_No, just an arrogant ass none of us like..._ I can't help but think.

"I know magic is supposed to accelerate the healing process, no? So why is it that two weeks after I sustained these injuries-defending_ your _backwater, dog-land fortress, I might add-they are not healed?"

"Broken bones take longer to heal than simple gashes," I explain, my urge to rip his tongue out rising with each passing second.

"But that other man, Aimon? His arm was broken in the same fall as my legs, and yet it is almost healed. I heard the... _**blood mage**_ say so himself."

My hands curl into fists. _Small wonder Jowan's past is on his mind again, with this bastard for a patient._ "You _will _use your fellow Wardens' _names_ when you speak of them, ser," I grind out, my voice as hard and cold as frozen steel. "The dark haired mage is Jowan, the blond is Anders. I ever hear you refer to a fellow Warden by what they used to be again, I will enforce disciplinary measures. Am I understood?"

He nods, grudgingly. "_Oui, Commandant_. They are still clearly showing preference, no?"

"From what I understand, the break in Aimon arm wasn't serious. More of a hairline fracture than a true break. Your legs, to hear Anders tell it, the bones were all but poking through the skin, the fractures were so severe. Get more facts next time before you leap to conclusions."

Zimri at least has the decency to color slightly. "Forgive for not interrogating one of them in the brief moments I have their attention."

I sigh. "Imagined slights are a non-issue. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"These 'imagined slights', as you call them," he retorts, scowling. "I have been treated with disdain by everyone from yourself to the mages to the _servants_, Commander. I wish to know what defense you can offer for such treatment."

I want to scream, to throttle him, to run from the hallway before I do something I'll regret later. "Disdain? Yes, I imagine you have. We are a tight-knit group here, Zimri." His given name tastes oily on my tongue and I fight the urge to shudder. "Hearing you speak ill of Anders or any other Wardens would make anyone hear... feel less kindly toward you. We are Wardens. You, me, Jowan, Anders, Sigrun, Nathaniel, Gabriel, _all of us_. You are the only one who doesn't see willing to _act like it_."

"This is another thing, Commander; in Orlais, if someone is a traitor to the crown, their family is hunted down to the last child to prevent another attempted uprising, no? They are not _rewarded_ with the honor of being a Grey Warden."

"That is quite enough, ser Caron," I reply coldly, every fiber of my being wanting to strangle the vexatious man in the bed. _First Jowan, then Anders, and now Nathaniel? Are you __**trying**__ to make me kill you?_ "In the space of a single conversation, you have belittled and spoken ill of three of my closest friends, men who I trust beyond a shadow of a doubt." _Which is far more than I can say for you._ "If you ever do so again, I _will _have you posted elsewhere, your orders be damned to the bloody Void." I stomp away, practically boiling with barely contained rage.

And nearly run into Jowan as I pass through the doorway. "Whoa, slow down, Rahna."

My face goes red. "Did... did you hear that?"

"Not _all_ of it, but enough. And I traveled with the man, trust me, I can figure out the rest." He raises an eyebrow at the murder in my eyes. "He _really_ made you mad."

"But at least I'm not punching him," I point out. "See how I've grown?"

"Yes, this is a vast improvement from what you tell me happened on your way to Longreach," he chuckles.

"Hey, that bastard had it coming," I protest, feeling a grin pull at my lips. "And now I'm going to go take out my frustration on a practice dummy. In case anyone is looking for me."

"Better that than one of us, I guess. Right?" he teases, and I make a face and sock him in the arm as I head for my room to get my swords-and shoes.

_A/N: I've been ignoring Zimri. Which, while understandable-writing him makes me feel slimy-is bad form. Just because I don't like him and wrote him into existance for one specific purpose does not mean I can make him just a paper cutout of Despicable Slimy Bastardness. I want to get across that the main reason he is what and who he is comes from his history; as an Orlesian and as a templar. Orlais is much, much harsher on their mages than Ferelden(which is saying something, I know), so I had to take that into account writing him. He's an antagonist in a story set in a BioWare universe. The least I can do in the spirit of that is make him well-developed..._

_ In other news, it appears angsty!Jowan has made a teensy bit of a return. I thought I was done writing him being emo-ish, but apparently not. This is going to get interesting..._

_ Ooh, and an internet cookie if you can spot my quasi-subtle Firefly reference. =D_

_Of course, translation of Zimri's "Orlesian" courtey of Google Translate._

_Par les larmes de Andrasté= by the tears of Andraste_

_Oui, Commandant= yes, commander_


	73. Making Adjustments

73. Making Adjustments

"So, how's it going down there?"

Vincent gave Miri a look that plainly said 'You're joking, right?' as he scooped a flagon's worth of water from the cask that sat near the entrance to the Deep Road tunnels. The warrior drank down half of it in one long gulp, and poured the rest over his head. "It's hot as the blazes, for one thing."

"Oh, it's not so bad, Vince," Ashe commented as she dipped her own flagon in the water cask.

"Not so bad?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow at the wisps of dark brown hair plastered to his sister's forehead by sweat.

She shrugged, downing most of her water in one long swallow, much like her brother. "Maybe it's 'cause your armor's heavier than mine, I dunno. It's hot, but tolerable."

"Non, no, no, little sister, the stuffiness of the Deep Roads on a _good_ day is 'tolerable'. You throw in the heat generated by whatever the dwarves are using to block up those new darkspawn tunnels and it's _insufferable_ is what it is," Vincent retorted.

"Whiner," Ashe teased, flicking the droplets that remained in her flagon at him.

"Show-off," Vincent shot back with a grin.

"Oh, speaking of show-offs... Miri, don't forget you and Luc have the next guard shift after William and Jakob."

"I hope the connection to show-off was referring to Luc and not me," Miri teased, grinning at Ashe.

The warrior's eyes darkened slightly, but she still smiled cheekily as she replied, "Of course, my good mage. Who else would I be referring to aside from that pretentious dwarven bastard?"

"Ah, the things you say, woman." The dwarf in question, a widely grinning redhead with an abundance of laugh lines creasing the corners of his eyes, chose that moment to join the three of them. "Still sore over losing our duel? And I mean your pride, not your backside, since you wouldn't be down here if that still hurt."

Ashe went pure scarlet and glared at him. "Damn it, Kader. You only beat me because you insisted on single combat. Everyone knows I'm best when I team up with Vince."

Luc shrugged. "I didn't have a partner, so it would hardly have been fair, two against one, no? And you still did a good job. Until you got cocky and I landed you on your arse."

Ashe just huffed in annoyance and stalked away.

Vincent chuckled and clapped the dwarf on the shoulder. "Don't worry. She likes you. You're just the first person to beat her since she was fifteen. She'll probably challenge you to a rematch sooner or later."

Luc grinned. "And I'll accept, when she does. Me an' my girls are always ready for a fight." He reached to rub the handles of the mace and flail strapped to his back.

"Girls?" Miri asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. I've found naming my weapons makes me more attached to 'em, which in turn makes me a better fighter." His grin widened, and he patted the flail. "This is Vera. And this-" he repeated the gesture with the mace, "-is Ilona."

"I see." Miri nodded, trying not to grin _too_ widely at the dwarf. "Good names. Ilona was a Paragon, wasn't she?"

"Aye. But I just liked the name," Luc shrugged, glancing toward the Deep Roads entrance. "What's a Paragon matter to a surface dwarf? My family's lived up here for three generations; I've never even seen Orzammar, and I'm not likely to until my Calling."

This time the mage did laugh. His attitude about the fact was surprisingly upbeat. "I see. Long as you stll have your stone sense, I don't see a problem with that."

"That I do," he returned, winking at her.

"I stand greatly relieved," Miri chuckled. "So, where was I that I missed this glorious moment of you landing one of the best warriors I know on her backside?"

"Off sulking that you don't have Jowan or Gabriel around," Vincent answered.

"I wasn't sulking!" Miri protested. "Moping, maybe, but I don't sulk."

"Ah. My mistake, then," the warrior muttered under his breath, smirking.

Miri just rolled her eyes and pointedly ignored him as she and Luc waited their turn to descend into the tunnels and watch over the dwarven work crews scrambling to block up the new tunnels she and the others had found.

**oOo**

I"ve been going at the practice dummy for roughly half an hour before I get company.

"Commander." Syn nods as she leans against the fence, standing on the bottom rail in order to lean against the top one, grinning at me as she does.

"Anders decided to let you out?" I tease, nodding back as I take a break.

She shrugs. "There's no need to keep me in a bed anymore. The whole 'blood loss' side effect of getting my arm and forehead torn open by a shriek is a moot point now, yah? The scars are even healed. Mostly," she amends, raising one hand to trace the faint scar that slices across her forehead before disappearing beneath her eyepatch.

"Hey, nothin' wrong with scars," I reply, grinning as I run one finger over my own, the jagged line that runs perilously close to my left eye.

"At least you didn't lose your eye," she points out. "Even if you can't see out of it anymore. Speaking of which, how's that work, exactly?"

It's my turn to shrug. "Dunno, really. Wynne-my healer-said something about irreparable nerve damage or something like that. The adjustment period to only being able to see out of one eye didn't take as long as I thought it would, which was a good thing."

Syn laughs ruefully, tapping a greenish-yellow bruise that circles just below her cheekbone. "Tell me your secret, so I can stop walking int' doorways."

I chuckle. "Well, to be honest, it was mostly trial and error and walking into a few doors myself."

Her smile widens at that. "Good to know it gets better. I can practically see Kiv tense whenever I do that, like he's unsure if it would annoy me for him to ask if I'm alright, you know?"

I nod. "I do know. It's tough at first. But you'll get the hang of it."

"Care t' help me with that?" She steps down from the fence and pulls a blunted greatsword from the nearby barrel of practice weapons.

"It would be my honor," I reply with a grin, planting my swords in the ground and reaching for a matched pair of longswords from the same barrel, their disc-shaped pommels notched from use. "You want to start slow or just dive in?"

Her answer is to let out a primal sounding battle cry-much like Gabriel's, come to think of it-and charge at me.

"Dive in it is," I smirk, easily sidestepping her first attack. She's only slightly off-target, but it's enough for avoiding her to be like child's play. I retaliate with two blows in quick succession; the first clangs dully off her sword's blade, the second catching her high on her shoulder.

"That's a point for you," she concedes ruefully, shifting her grasp on the hilt of her sword and rolling her shoulder to lessen the sting. "Ancestors, this might be harder than I thought..."

"Oh, we're competing for points?" I shoot back.

"Shouldn't have said that, Syn! No way under the Maker's blue sky she'll let you win now, no?"

"Oh, hush it, Gabriel!" I bark toward our newly arrived audience. "Be quiet or go away!"

He and Aimon share a chuckle and then both of them lean against the fence to watch, matching grins plastered across their faces.

"You don't mind losing in front of an audience, do ya?" Syn goads, circling to look for an opening.

"Big talk from a woman who hasn't touched me yet," I smirk back as I twist around to follow her movements.

"That'll change," she retorts, and lunges forward. This swing passes close enough it's troublesome to avoid, and the breeze from its wake ruffles my shirt.

"Much better. You may actually hit me before we're done here," I taunt with a laugh as I let my momentum flow into a blow aimed at her knees. Dwarves have always given me trouble; they're so blasted _short_. My duel with Sigrun is the only time I didn't really have any trouble. I'm used to fighting opponents my height or taller.

This is not the time of place to be getting distracted, so I find the moment a memory rears up bittersweet, wanting it to go away and wanting it stay with equal fervency.

**oOo**

_"Are you __**ever**__ going to block properly against a dwarf?" Alistair chuckles as he helps me to my feet._

_ "Oh, shut up." I glare at him and kick the limp body of the duster who landed me on my arse, sending his shield skittering a few paces away. "How d'you manage it? You're even taller'n I am, and they don't give you trouble."_

_ He grins at me. "That's my little secret, love."_

_ "Oh, you-" I sigh in exasperation and lightly punch his arm. I'd do it harder, but he's wearing heavy plate armor, and that would just be stupid._

_ "Not to interrupt your... lovers' quarrel," Zevran grins, "because it __**is **__quite entertaining, I believe we came down here for a purpose, yes? Should we not attend to that first?"_

_ "What ever would we do without you?" I quip, giving an exaggerated sigh as I stoop to see if these thieves had anything valuable on them._

_ "I shudder to think, my dear Warden," he shoots back with a cheeky grin, and I can practically feel Alistair glare at him._

_ I'm not surprised when I come up empty from checking the corpses; if they had anything of value, they wouldn't have bothered attacking us. "Come on, let's see if we can find Jarvia's hideout..."_

_ They fall in step behind me as I continue toward what passes for the center square in all this squalor. I just hope I make a better show of myself in out next fight. I'm tired of getting landed on my back by dwarven criminals._

That's Alistair's job_, I think to myself with a smirk._

** oOo**

"Rahna!"

I instinctively duck at Gabriel's warning, and Syn's greatsword whistles over my head.

"No outside help!" she protests, sparing a moment to glare at the redheaded elf.

"Fair's fair, and I'd do the same for you," he replies.

I take advantage of her being distracted and brace my hands against the ground for balance as I lash out with one foot, sweeping her legs out from under her. She hits the ground with a grunt, but recovers far faster than I expected, given that neither of us is wearing armor so I know she really _felt_ that. The dwarf rolls over, regaining her feet and swinging at me in one smooth motion that catches me by surprise. I step back to dodge, but not far enough, and the flat of her blade still hammers into my side just below my ribcage.

"Good one, " I hiss, barely managing to strangle the yelp I want to let out. Gabriel would never let me live something like that down. "You're adjusting well."

She smirks. "I always was a quick learner."

"Well, in that case..." I pant, letting the sentence trail off as I lunge forward, one sword shoving hers out of the way before I swing the other around to make contact with her stomach. I'm careful to check the blow and not hit her as hard as I could, because since we're both sans armor, that would still do some damage, blunted blades notwithstanding.

Syn grunts and stumbles back. I've never been one to waste an opportunity, so I sweep her legs out from under her while she's off balance, and this time have my swords crossed above her throat before she manages to recover.

"Damn," the dwarf pants, grinning at me from below her slightly-askew eyepatch. "You're good."

"Thank you," I reply, breathing hard. "So are you." I offer her a hand up and pull her to her feet.

"Could I have a go?" Syn and I both swivel to raise an eyebrow at Kiv, who's leaning against the fence opposite Gabriel and Aimon. "So long as you're feeling up to it, of course," he amends, shooting Syn a smirk that's one hundred percent pure _challenge_.

_Oh. Boy._ I grin as I watch her weigh jumping right into another sparring match fresh off of one against not accepting the elf's challenge.

It doesn't take her long to decide. "Bring it."

Kiv chuckles. "May I, Rahna?"

"Of course." I hand over the twin swords, ducking out through the fence as he ducks in. "But I'm not going to be involved in this beyond that," I laugh, retrieving my sword and beating a hasty retreat. Memories of sparring with Alistair at camp swirl around me as I leave, and I smile at the thought of Syn pulling some of the tricks I used, and Kiv reacting with the same protests as Alistair. I don't want to be judging the outcome of a draw between two almost-lovers.

**oOo**

Fortunately for me, my favorite spot on the walls in one of the few places that wasn't destroyed by the darkspawn. Voldrik and his work crews have been hard at repairs for two weeks, but there's still a lot to be done. So I take a small measure of joy that I still have my spot.

Of course, I can't call it my _secret_ spot anymore, as half the Wardens here seem to know where to find me. Well, alright; Anders, Sigrun, and Nathaniel. It's the archer who interrupts my thoughts this time, quietly sitting next to me.

"So, how'd Syn do after I left?" I ask after a few minutes' silence.

A small smile lifts one corner of Nathaniel's mouth. "Kiv beat her. She was not happy about that."

"Considering the fact they're sweethearts, I can see why," I comment wryly.

"Ah. Don't feel too badly for her, Commander. After losing to Kiv, she beat Aimon and Sigrun in rather quick succession."

"Wait, she beat Sigrun first try?" I huff in exasperation, which makes him chuckle.

"She did." He nods.

"I'll have to learn her secret..." I mutter. "But I'm fairly certain you didn't come all the way up here just to inform of Syn's win-loss record, so what's up?" I tuck a loose lock of hair behind my ear as I ask, looking up at him.

"I was wondering, since repairs here seem to be progressing nicely, if I could go to the city to check on Delilah, see how she's managing."

I can't help but raise an eyebrow. "And if you happen to _also_ check on her best friend while you're there, it would, of course, be sheer coincidence?"

"Absolutely," he deadpans.

"C'mon, Nate. If you like the girl, let her know." I bite my lip. "She's lost _everything_, right? Delilah's all she has. Letting her know you're there for her as well will mean a lot. Trust me."

"I'll... keep that in mind, Rahna," he concedes quietly.

"That said, yes, you can go check on your sister. See if she's heard from her husband yet. And while you're there, see if you can get Stroud to tell you when he's planning on coming back to the Vigil. I think Gabriel's getting anxious to be on the way to Kaiten."

"If that's so, wouldn't it make more sense for Stroud to just wait in the city?" Nathaniel points out. "That's where the harbor is, so the others will all have to come to the city to leave anyway."

"Ah. Excellent point. I'll talk to Gabriel, see if he thought of that."

"And I'll be on my way," he nods. "Thank you, Rahna."

"You're welcome. Oh, and if Delilah needs a place to stay, she can comes here. If she wants. I've no idea what kind of memories she might have."

"True. I'll be sure to mention it to her," Nathaniel promises as he stands and makes his way off the wall.

I watch him go, surveying the state of the Vigil from my perch. _We've definitely made progress..._ Maybe not as much as I'd like, but progress, all the same.

_A/N: More Miri! *cheers* And meet Luc. Like Hayden and Zimri, he wound up deleted before I got terribly far with his game, but he existed and he's a Kader. Now I only have Brosca and Mahariel left, and I know how I'm going to do both of those. *even louder cheers* Granted Mahariel will be tricky and involve some playing with the timeline of that origin, but I can do it. ;) On a side note: Is it horrible that I find Syn to be about five times more badass now that she has an eyepatch? xD And one last thing: my family is going on vacation next week, and while I'm fairly certain I'll still have internet access, I'm still going to try to post the next chapter before we leave. If that doesn't happen, it'll be a couple days late. You've been warned. =)_


	74. Constellations

74. Constellations

It feels... emptier than I thought it would with Nathaniel gone, however temporarily. For such a quiet man, he manages to leave a rather loud and glaring silence when he's absent.

_Or you just depend on the man too bloody much, so you're feeling it more than you should._ I have to sigh at the point made by the small voice in my head, because it's probably right; him being my unofficial second in commander, I do depend on Nathaniel an awful, awful lot.

Fortunately, in theory I won't be missing him for too long. After talking to Gabriel and explaining Nathaniel's point about Stroud simply waiting in the city for the rest of them, the plan is now to just wait a couple more days to let Aimon's arm finish healing-Anders can do amazing things with healing magic-and then they'll be off. I plan to go with them, do my own checking into the progress of repairs in the city. I'll have to take a broader scope than Nathaniel, of course; I have to worry about everyone, not just one person. _Or two_, I remind myself with a smirk. Even with as little as he's willing to say about it, I i_know_ there's something between him and Vi. I just don't know how serious a something.

"Rahna, you plannin' on actually joining us?" Kiv's teasing inquiry jolts me back to reality.

"What? Oh, sorry..." I mutter. "Is it my turn again?"

"Yep." Sigrun nods. She and Syn somehow managed to talk me and Kiv into a game of Diamondback. Considering how thoroughly I got my tail whupped last time, I still don't know quite how she pulled that off. "Your turn."

The cards I draw have me uttering an internal groan of anguish that I struggle mightily to _keep_ internal. I still feel a muscle in my face twitch. From the triumphant gleam in Syn's eye, she noticed it, too. "I very well might fold if this keeps up..."

"Oh, where's the fun in that?" Syn teases airily, grinning as she takes her turn.

"Where's the fun in getting my pants beaten off me-again-by that damned little trickster?" I retort, shooting Sigrun a dirty look.

"What're friends for, if not getting you to... expand your horizons?" she counters cheerily.

"This is not me expanding my horizons, this is you earning more bragging rights for the dinner table, that's what this is," I groan.

"Yes, well... It's still fun." That opinion doesn't stop her from groaning when the time comes to show our hands and it turns out Kiv beat both the dwarves. "You nug-humper!" she huffs accusingly, even as she laughs.

"What? Just because I'm better at keeping my face expressionless?" he teases, grinning at her. "I'm so very wounded."

"I can make that literal, you know," Syn threatens.

"But you won't. I'm too cute," he fires back, smirking at her as Sigrun shuffles the cards for another round.

"Blast it, elf..." she glares at him, but she's not fooling any of us.

"Y'know, watching you two almost makes losing so horribly worth it," I comment as I take my hand of cards from Sigrun.

They both make a show of ignoring me.

**oOo**

In the end, I actually wind up winning a few times, though not nearly as much as Kiv. Had we been playing for money, he'd have cleaned all three of us out. Considering the dwarves seemed fairly confident in their ability to beat us both, this is extra satisfying.

"Not bad, eh, boss?" he grins, giving me a light nudge in the ribs with his elbow.

Playful and slight as the contact is, I still have to clamp down hard on a sharp spasm of not-quite-dull pain. Despite my best efforts to hide it, Kiv still sees.

"You alright?" he asks, frowning in concern.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," I assure him. "That's just the bruise from where Syn got me yesterday."

"Ah. She did make pretty solid contact, Commander." His frown deepens. "You sure it's alright?"

"Cross m' heart. Just a bit... tender. And besides, Anders and Jowan are busy enough with _real_ patients; I don't need either of them fussing over a damn bruise."

"Nonsense. I know them both well enough to know neither of them would mind in the slightest, oh most stubborn of commanders," he contradicts. "It's not like it would take a lot to heal, either."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. Since you're not going to just drop this... you can tell one of them. I don't care which." Good a job as I've been doing hiding this, it does... complicate things slightly when you have to be careful how you move.

"Don't go away," Kiv admonishes as he pushes back from the table and stands.

I somehow know exactly which one of the two he's going to find first, so it doesn't surprise me in the least when the Rivaini elf returns with Jowan not far behind him.

"What did you do to yourself now?" the mage teases.

"Nothing!" I protest, shooting him a dirty look. "Syn did this. Yesterday, during our duel. I told Kiv it's just a bruise, just a bit tender-"

"But I know from experience how hard Syn can hit," Kiv interrupts. "And neither of you were wearing armor, so I think you should let someone look at it."

"And I'm acquiescing," I point out. "I let you get Jowan, and I didn't run and hide while you were gone."

"Rahna, if you don't think it's that bad, just show me." Jowan raises an eyebrow at me and flicks back a wisp of hair falling in his eyes.

I huff in exasperation. "Kiv, go away." He obliges with a chuckle. We're still in one of the main halls of the fortress, so it's hardly _private_, but I feel less self-conscious not having an immediate audience as I pull up the side of my shirt high enough for Jowan to see the bruise.

He whistles. "That dwarf really can hit hard."

I glance down, getting my first proper look at it myself, and feel my eyes widen. "Maker's breath... okay, I'm feeling more like letting Kiv get you may not have been as silly as I originally thought. But don't tell him I said that." The bruise is almost as long as my hand, purple in color-edged in green to make it extra lovely, and sits just below my ribcage. _No wonder it hurts..._

Jowan chuckles as he rests his hand against the sensitive skin, flashing a concerned glance up at me when I flinch even at his light tough. "Sorry."

"No, it's not that..." I let the sentence trail off as the soft light of a healing spells pulses around his hand and we both watch the edges of the bruise shrink and collapse in on itself. Jowan's thumb absently brushes against the small scar left from the Crow ambush we fought through what seems _ages_ ago.

"What?" I mumble when his brow furrows.

"Nothing. Just... thinking about that night." _How we almost lost you._ Even if he doesn't say it, I know we're both thinking it. That's one of my closest calls; only the Mother's ever made me cut it closer. He shakes his head and lets his hand drop, lightly tracing the lower edge of the shiny, puckered burn scar that covers the same skin as the now-vanished bruise as he does. "Maker, Rahna, you have scars on top of your scars. How many do you have, anyway?"

I shrug, letting my shirt fall back down. "I don't exactly keep track. And 'sides, used to be I had Alistair to kiss things better, so I didn't mind quite so much. Now it's just... get them healed and go on with life." I grin at him mischievously and tweak the stubborn lock of hair that's falling in his eyes again. "Unless you're volunteering as a replacement..."

Maker, he goes so sodding _**red**_. It's hilarious. "I..." He clears his throat, which sounds almost like a growl to me. "I am going to kill you." He taps one finger against the end of my nose as he straightens. "And for the love of everything good and holy in this world, _**don't**_ say anything like that around Anders or Miri. Those two already have... ideas."

"Oh, so does Sigrun," I inform him cheerfully. "Though she seems slightly more willing to accept that we're truly and honestly just friends."

"That's a relief," he mutters, raking one hand through his hair. "Well, back to work..."

I chuckle. "Don't work too hard."

He grins at me. "Me? Work too hard? Perish the thought."

I swat his arm and laugh. "Just... go."

**oOo**

The rest of the day passes fast enough, but come evening, I find it impossible to get to sleep. I don't even know _why_. Repairs are progressing nicely, as Nathaniel pointed out before he left, I haven't had to talk to Zimri all day, Varel and Oghren are both out of danger, Gabriel's not leaving for a few days yet... I'm just too damned restless to fall asleep. I've lost track of the hour by the time I give up and push out of my bed with a groan, pulling on the same trousers I was wearing earlier under my nightshirt. I head for the wall, hoping the night will be clear enough to see the stars. There's a very short list of things that can make me relax no matter what, and since Alistair's presence and Leliana's singing aren't available right now, star-gazing will have to do.

Fortunately, the night sky is crystal clear, the stars winking like shards of diamond out of the velvety purple-blackness. I sigh in relief as I sit on the cool stone, leaning my head back against the parapet as I scan the sky for the constellations I know-all of them thanks to Leliana, who had a story to go with every last one. After a minimal amount of searching, I find Alindra and her soldier love winking off to the east. I smile softly at the memory of the night Leliana told me their story and explained why it's one of her favorites. _"A love so powerful it defied death, and moved the gods to actions..."_

"Very few people get a love like that, my friend," I whisper to the night sky, playing with the cracked amulet hanging around my neck. "At least for long." For an infinitesimally brief moment, I feel a strange sort of kinship with Alindra, having been deprived of my own lover through horribly unfair circumstances. I sigh and groan up at the stars. "Maker, moving on would be so much easier if the past would _stay_ the bloody past..."

"Talking to yourself again? Y'know people are going to think you're crazy," Jowan comments as he climbs the stairs to the wall.

I tear my gaze off the stars at the interruption and roll my eyes at him. "But I _am_ crazy." I push away from the wall and pat the stone next to me. "I'm also not the only one suffering from insomnia, I see."

"You could say that," he chuckles wearily as he sits next to me. I turn so we're leaning against each other back to back. "You do realize that if one of us falls asleep while sitting like this, the other one is kind of... stuck, right?"

"Says you," I giggle. "You fall asleep on me, I'm _so_ wiggling out and leaving you up here." He doesn't retort like I'm expecting, and I raise an eyebrow. "Jowan? Tell me you'd _actually_ sit up here all night if I happen to fall asleep on you." Which still doesn't seem to be a huge threat, but you never know.

Still silence.

"Maker's breath, you _would_?" Thanks to the combination of surprise and trying to whisper, the words come out sounding very much like a squeak.

He shrugs. "I owe you that much, at least, Rahna."

I outright _laugh_ at that-albeit quietly. "Jowan, by this point, you don't owe me a blessed thing, and you know it." We both sit in silence for a minute before I put the pieces together. There's only one thing that can focus Jowan so doggedly on what he think he _owes_. "You drempt about Lily, didn't you?"

My demand is so abrupt, I can't fault him for hesitating. "...Yes." It comes out as a resigned sigh.

"So you're having dreams about her that are so bad they _wake you up_?" I only just _barely_ squelch the urge to twist around and stare at him in disbelief. _And you didn't think to tell me that little detail? Jowan, what am I going to do with you?_

"Can we _please_ not talk about this?" he mutters. "At least not right now? I came up here to _stop _thinking about that, not dwell on it."

I sigh and let it go-for now. "Fine. But only because I'm feeling generous tonight."

"Thanks for that," he chuckles ruefully. "So, what drove _you_ out here?"

"Just plain ol' restless," I return, lenaing my head back against his shoulder. "Not sure why. So I came out here to look at the stars. That's usually helped in the past."

"I see. Know all your constellations, then?" The aching tension of mere seconds ago has bled into lighthearted teasing, for which I am profoundly grateful.

"Just one or two real ones," I admit.

"What you know a lot that _aren't_ real?"

"Nights Alistair and I had watch duty together, we would look up at the stars and... make up names for groups that formed 'new' constellations." I search the sky 'til I find one. "There." I feel Jowan shift position against my back so he can turn and look as I trace the rough outline of a dog between the points of light. "That's the Mabari. And... over there-" I trace a lopsided, almost complete circle nearby "-is the Great Wheel of Cheese. Alistair 'found' that one," I tack on with a laugh.

"I don't... Ah, never mind, I do see them." Jowan chuckles softly. "The Mabari looks like it's trying to _eat_ the Great Wheel of Cheese. Did you... do that on purpose?"

"Me? Would _I_ do such a thing?" I riposte, all innocence under my giggles.

"Absolutely," he retorts dryly, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

"I'm _wounded_, ser. Positively broken-hearted you could think such things of me."

"You'll live, I'm sure," he returns. "Any other fun, new constellations you two made up?"

"Oh, lots. But they require more imagination. You have to squint. And tilt your head _juuuust_ right..."

**oOo**

It only takes an hour of 'educating' Jowan in my own personal constellations before I get sleepy and start yawning-a lot.

"Maybe you should try going back to bed now," Jowan points out with a quiet laugh.

"Good idea..." I mumble, pushing to my feet and almost falling over.

"You gonna need help?"

I shake my head and wave off the suggestion almost drunkenly. "I'll be _fine_." I'm forced to reconsider that statement pretty much immediately when I nearly miss the top step in the flight down from the wall. "Okay. Help... help soun's good..."

Jowan chuckles as he stands and lets me grab his arm for balance. "Maker, Rahna... you're _really_ tired."

"Yep," I agree, leaning against him heavily. We haven't even made it halfway to the bottom before I stumble and nearly fall again. _I'm usually a little bit more graceful than this..._

"That does it," Jowan mutters. And before my suddenly overwhelmingly exhausted brain can process thing, he wraps one arm around my shoulders, bends to slide the other behind my knees, and scoops me up to carry me the rest of the way. I'm too far gone to protest that I"m not a _child_, and completely out before we're halfway across the courtyard.

_He's __**so**__ hearing about this in the morning..._ I promise myself just before I succumb.

_A/N:Rahna is so evil at times. It's positively hilarious. But poor Jowan... Though I think he'd miss it if she stopped teasing him. =P And the mental image of Rahna and Alistair making up their own constellations... I may have to write a oneshot about this, because that idea is too cute for words. To me, at least. And I'm posting this so early because the rest of my day is full and we leave on vacation tomorrow. Said vacation will also encompass most of my writing time for the next chapter, so I have no idea if that will be on time. _


	75. Plans

75. Plans

My first conscious thought is to turn my back on the sun streaming in through the window and burrow deep under the covers for just a few minutes more. It's an impulse I indulge, pulling the covers over my head to block out the infernal sun as I curl into a ball, spending a few minutes in muzzy enjoyment of the comforts provided by a bed.

Until my _second_ conscious thought hits me with roughly the same effect that would be had by ice water, or Shianni bouncing next to me.

_Covers. Bed. I'm back in my room._ Given that my last memory of the night before is nearly falling asleep out on the wall, this confuses me for a minute. I roll over and sit up, scrubbing the cobwebs of sleep out of my eyes-not to mention my mind-and try to remember. It takes a few minutes before I'm awake enough for it to hit me.

_Jowan. Jowan carried me back to my room._ Part of me instantly wants to yell at him for treating me like a bloody _child_, but the rest has to acknowledge I was probably too tired to make it all the way from the walltop to my room. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rake both hands through my hair, wincing when my fingers snag on a multitude of knots. _Andraste's knickerweasels, how does hair this short get so tangled? _While my hair has grown out quite a bit from the short cut Wynne was forced to give me after Fort Drakon, it still barely reaches my shoulders. Grumbling to myself, I reach for my comb and set to work undoing the snarls. Once it's smooth, I decide to get slightly adventurous and and quickly work a couple sections of hair into skinny braids before tying in my customary pigtails and getting dressed.

Now I need food, and then to find a certain dark haired mage. _I've been doing this falling asleep on people thing way too much lately... _I grin as I head for the kitchen. First there was following the Blackmarsh and then it was after the Mother, and now just randomly on top of the wall. _It's becoming a habit._

"What's that grin for?" Sigrun asked when we cross paths in the dining hall.

"Oh, nothing, really. Private joke."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "C'mon, Commander. You have me all worried you're plotting revenge for me beating you at Diamondback or something."

"I promise, that's not it," I laugh. "Cross m'heart and hope to die."

"Good enough for me." She shrugs and grins. "You seen Syn this morning? I need to talk to her."

I shake my head. "I just got up. You're the first living soul I've laid eyes on today."

"If you see her, let her know I'm lookin' for her?"

"Of course." I nod and continue toward the kitchen. Eating's become... less structured as we repair the damge caused by the Mother's forces. The cook and her staff keep food on hand pretty much all day, and when you get a chance to eat, you eat. It's working so far. Once things are more back to normal, we'll return to a bit more of a schedule, but this is fine for now. I nod a good morning to the assisstant in charge this morning as I scoop up a healthy serving of porridge.

_Now, where would I find Jowan?_ Normally, the answer would be easy; still in bed. My tendencies run toward early bird and Jowan's toward night owl, so he sleeps later than I do. But I overslept this morning, so he's probably up. I just need to find him. I check a few of the places I'd think I could find him with no luck. _Oh, never mind_, I finally decide, not wanting my breakfast to get cold while I look for him. I'll eat and _then_ track down the mage with whom I need to have words. Mind made up on that matter, I head out to the stables, figuring I'll visit with the mabari while I eat.

However, when I reach the stables, it's not just the matching tawny heads of Fade and Honey that greet me.

"I guess great minds really do think alike, huh?" Jowan grins, looking up-_That's new_-when he hears the door bang shut behind me.

"I was thinking more _Speak of the devil_," I shoot back with a matching grin as I relish the ability to look _down_ at him for a minute. He's sitting between the two dogs, his knees pulled up against his chest and the empty bowl from his own breakfast balanced precariously atop them, as his hands are occupied scratching both dogs between the ears.

Honey lifts her head and snorts when she sees me, lazily standing and stretching before walking around Jowan to lay next to Fade.

"They really are smarter than your average tax collector," I mutter, still grinning, as I settle myself carefully next to the mage. "She knows I need to talk to you."

Jowan gives me an innocent smile. "What about?"

I lightly punch his shoulder. "Last night, dummy."

He raises an eyebrow, still playing innocent. "Go on..."

I sigh in exasperation. "I'm not sure whether to thank you for the help or seriously let you have it for treating me like a child."

His eyebrow quirks higher. "Hey, if you're gonna fall asleep on your feet like one..."

"You...!" I slug his arm harder this time, nearly spilling my porridge, but giggling all the same. Jowan laughs, twisting slightly so I punch the bony part of his shoulder. "Ouch! You _rat_!" I'm laughing even as I shake my hand in a futile attempt to get it to stop hurting. "Given that you're in a good enough mood to tease me, I'll assume you got a good night's sleep y'self?" I finally take a bite of my breakfast, the warm cinnamon taste nearly making my eyes roll back in my head.

He nods, smiling as he rakes his hair out of his eyes. "I did, thanks. That star-gazing plan of yours is a really good idea for relaxing."

I chuckle, swallowing my mouthful of food. "Well, feel free to use it whenever you want. You can look for my constellations, see if you can find 'em without me showing you, or make up your own." I pause for a second. "Though that's more fun if you have someone to do it with you..."

Jowan grins impishly at me. "Don't worry, I ever need company, I'll just wake you up."

I wrinkle my nose at him. "Oh, really? Is that your plan, ser mage?"

"Yep." He nods, still all but smirking.

"I might have an opinion on that, y'know. Something along the lines of _Don't you dare_." I nudge him with my elbow as I take another bite of porridge, raising both eyebrows at him.

"Do your worst," he teases, tweaking one of my pigtails.

"Oh, I can make you regret sayin' _that_..." I set my bowl aside, just in case.

Jowan lets out a small, almost scoffing, laugh.

I just give him a _Fine, you asked for it_ look and reach over to tickle him in that _really_ sensitive spot right under his ribcage. He, of course, yelps and jerks away.

"_**Rahna!**_"

"Hey, you were askin' for it!" I point out, laughing so hard I can barely breathe.

He shoots me a dirty look. "Brat."

"Yep," I return, as I make second attempt that's even more successful than the first.

"Maker's _breath_!" He jerks away again, this time grabbing my wrist. "D'you want me to light your hair on fire, Rahna?" he threatens, but I can see the light of mirth flickering in his eyes and know he doesn't really mean it.

"Only if you want to see the full wrath of my avenging prankster side. Which, trust me, you don't," I return with a grin, reaching around with my other hand to tickle him until he lets me go. "Sweet Andraste, you're fun..."

He shoots me another dirty look. "So pleased I could be the source of your amusement. Maker's breath, you're worse than Miri..." the last bit is muttered under his breath.

I giggle. "Where... where'd your bowl go?" At some point in our friendly scuffle, his bowl tumbled off his knees-not that that was a particularly safe spot for it to begin with. It doesn't take much of a search to find it: upside down on Fade's head. The mabari looks unsure what to do with his new hat for a few minutes before letting out an annoyed huff and ducking his head so the bowl drops to the floor. I stifle another giggle at the thin trail of porridge running down the side of Fade's head because the dog looks so very _hurt_.

"Sorry, boy," I chuckle. He lets out a small whine in an attempt to look extra pitiful.

"Maker, he's a good actor," Jowan mutters, fighting a grin of his own. Honey gives Fade an empathetic look and starts licking the rapidly drying drip mark off his head with a will.

"Mabari _are_ incredibly smart dogs," I point out.

"True." Jowan watches the two for a minute. "He just got a face bath from a pretty girl, by mabari standards, for instance."

I chuckle. "Oh, given their behavior over the past few months, I very much doubt she minds."

"Also true."

"In all seriousness, though, Jowan, thanks for... y'know, last night."

"Not a problem, _boss_," he replies with a grin, ruffling my hair.

It's my turn to yelp. "Maker, now I _know _you're spending way too much time with Anders... But seriously, I've been doing this fallin' asleep on people thing a lot since coming to the Vigil, and I'm just glad you were there to catch me that time, 'specially since Nate's not here."

He chuckles. "Like I said, not a problem. I used to have to carry Miri to bed all the time 'cause she'd fall asleep while we were studying. The templars frown on mages and apprentices sleeping anywhere but their quarters."

"Miri's a tiny little shrimp of an elf," I point out.

"You're not _that_ much bigger. Couple inches taller and a bit more muscle." He grins at my expression. "Cheer up. You're still a terror in a fight."

I fix him with what I hope is a withering look. "And for certain mages who don't know when to shut up."

His grin widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Noted. So, _Commander_, what's you plan for the day?"

I shrug. "Not much different from every other day recently. Once Anders is satisfied that Aimon's arm is okay, I'm going to go with Gabriel's group to Amaranthine to see them off and check on how things stand out there for a few days. Then I'll drag Nate back with me so I'm not traveling alone."

"Nate, huh? You trust him a lot, don't you?"

"Mm-hm." I nod, smiling ruefully. "More than I should, according to some."

"Wh- oh. That." He shrugs. "It's your choice, Rahna. And you're the one who keeps saying he's nothing like his father."

"I know, and I'm in no way doubting that choice. I trust Nathaniel, probably more than I trust anyone except Zev and you," I reply.

Jowan raises an eyebrow as he looks over at me. "Are you two...?"

"What, me an' Nate? Andraste's _knicker_weasels, no! He's the big brother I never had, not a sweetheart. 'Sides there's a girl in the city I'm having _way_ too much fun teasing him about."

"Ah. Just curious. And dare I ask where you picked up that particular oath?" He asks like he already knows the answer.

"Um, Anders," I confess, gaze darting in the direction of the keep.

"Thought it sounded familiar," he nods. "But I should probably let you get back to your commanderly duties."

"Commanderly? 'Zat even a word?" I giggle as I finish eating.

Jowan shrugs. "It is now."

**oOo**

The next few days are-as I expected-boring and routine. Eating breakfast with whichever of my friends I find first, followed by checking on the patients in the slowly shrinking infirmary, dueling one of the others to keep our skills sharp-and then hiding any new bruises from Jowan and Anders so I don't get lectured-helping as I can with the remaining repairs, things like that. The most interesting parts are convincing Varel and Oghren to stay in bed until Anders or Jowan says it's safe for them to get up. Surprisingly, it's harder to convince _Varel_ than Oghren-probably due to the fact the dwarf stays so drunk he'd fall over if he tried to stand up. The seneschal, on the other hand, is painfully aware of the fact I'm running everything-Warden and militia-and his second in command is still somewhat touch and go. He wants to get up and help, pointing out that he can bark orders from a damned armchair if that'll keep me and Anders happy.

Anders has to give him a rapid and pointed explanation that it's _mental_ stress more than physical that he's worried about right now. Varel grudgingly promises not to do anything stupid on the condition I don't try to do too much myself.

I'm all too happy to acquiesce; it's not until Gabriel and his group have left that I'll have any shortage of people all but demanding I delegate some things to them. Repairs are progressing slowly but surely, with Voldrik assuring me they can get this place back to "better than new", it'll just take time. We have plenty of that now, so it's just a matter of staying on top of things and making sure they happen. And I can do that without breaking my promise to Varel.

The only thing that would stress me out too much is another conversation with Zimri, and I find myself dearly wishing the man was going with Gabriel when his team leaves, but _no_. The only point Ser Caron talks about more than his templar training is reminding me that he's to be stationed here. With us. A fact that only makes both Anders and me want to kill him that much more.

I am _trying_ to be courteous and accepting, but his attitude during our last conversation proves to be a fair gauge of his overall personality. This makes getting along with him five times harder than it should be. He doesn't trust Jowan or Nathaniel at all, barely trusts Anders, and takes every chance he can get to make known his complaints about his treatment and imagined wrongs done to him.

"This bastard is making me miss Velanna," I mutter, after hearing yet another laundry list of complaints relayed by Ara. Being that I've refused to speak to the man since our last talk, he's forced to whine in this manner.

"Oh, wow. Now I know it's bad," Anders teases, catching the statement as he passes. "Didn't she drive you crazy?"

"Yeah, but if she was still here, I could sic her on Zimri and they'd kill each other, save me the trouble," I retort, pinching the bridge of my nose as a headache throbs to life at the mere thought of having Zimri and Velanna at each other's throats. "I do wish I knew what happened to her..."

Anders shrugs. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, your guess about her doing that tree root thing of hers makes the most sense. I know you have an over-developed sense of curiosity, but that may be the best you get."

"Gee, thanks." I roll my eyes at him. "How're things going in there?"

"Well as can be expected."

"Garevel doing any better?"

He shakes his head. "Not much."

"Damn. Well, keep me informed if anything changes for anyone, alright? I have things that need doing."

Anders chuckles and offers a mock salute. "Aye, aye, Commander."

_A/N: And Jowan proves he can be just as evil as Rahna when he feels like it. xD I love that the two of them can go from lighthearted to serious and back inside a conversation and it just feels so natural to write. Things like that make me happy. Sorry to stick some Zimri in the end. It was such a fun chapter otherwise, and then Ser Ex-templar had to go and ruin things for me. xD Just thinking about writing him makes my skin crawl, but that may be because I know some thing the things he's going to do later..._


	76. Cost & Reward

76. Cost & Reward

It's not too much longer before Anders declares Aimon's arm to be healed, or at least, healed enough for Gabriel's group to continue their journey to the Free Marches. Considering that they're now roughly three weeks behind schedule, all told, I can't blame the red-headed elf for looking relieved when he hears Anders' decision.

"This looks like more than simply relief to be on your way," I rib as I lean against the doorframe to Gabriel's room and watch him pack.

He chuckles. "You know Miri is in the Free Marches. And if you were happy to see Jowan, it can't be so hard to imagine I would be even more anxious to see _her_, no?"

"I'll concede the point," I grin, remembering how bloody _happy_ I was to see the mage. "It's still fun to tease, though."

"And, quite frankly, I'd be worried if you didn't, no?" Gabriel grins at me. "It is such a part of who you are. Like Syn. Or Anders."

"I was wondering, Gabriel, are you going to be in trouble for delaying your trip to help me fight here?" The worry started rising a couple days ago, when I realized just how much time they've "wasted" here because of what was supposed to be a simple little side trip.

"Of course not, Rahna." He shakes his head and offers an encouraging smile as he wrestles more of his belongings into his backpack. "Yes, we are a few weeks behind schedule, but we were assisting in defending a Warden base, which allowed you to stay and defend the city, so that we can keep the goodwill of the Fereldan people. The Wardens have had a hard enough time with this country, I have a feeling burning down a trade center would not endear us to them, no? I very much doubt there will be more waiting than perhaps a lecture on timeliness. And I will endure that-"

"-Because you can track down Miri once you're in the Marches," I finish for him with a grin.

He nods. "Exactly. In truth, I will probably be too lost in thinking about her to care what is said to me."

"Ah, gotta enjoy a man in love." I smirk. "I almost wish I could go with you to see that. But Varel would probably do something stupid if I wasn't here to run things, so I hafta stick around."

"I should be more worried about _Zimri_ doing something stupid then Varel, were I you. Varel is a good man, willing to listen and follow orders when they are given, no? Zimri, however does not seem the type who likes to obey."

I snort derisively. "There's a lot of things Zimri doesn't like. It's a very good thing he's not the only Orlesian I know, or my perception of the nation would be irrevocably tainted by his attitude."

"If I'm the other Orlesian you mean, bear in mind I was a servant. From Ser Caron's attitude... I'd be willing to bet either he or his father was a chevalier." Gabriel's brown eyes are serious, all traces of lightheartedness gone.

"From what Jowan told me, Zimri was a templar for quite a while before he joined the Wardens, so if you're right, it would have to have been his father."

"Whichever it was, that life is the surest way to guarantee entitlement issues I know of. Now, go pester Syn, or someone else, and let me finish in peace."

"As you wish, ser," I laugh, bowing as I back out of the doorway.

**oOo**

I make sure it's crystal clear before we leave that Sigrun is in charge, much as she hates me for doing that.

"Hey, you know I said you or Nate. And since Nate's not here right now..." I raise my eyebrows at the scowling dwarf. "Sig, it's only for a week. Maybe a little longer. Swear."

"Can't you leave Jowan in charge or something?" she begs.

"In the interest of not causing an uproar in Fereldan politics... no. Jowan and Anders are both out. _I_ trust them, but no one outside of the Wardens would. 'Sides, they need to focus on taking care of the injured we still have. You'll do fine." I offer a reassuring smile, and she sighs.

"If you say so, Commander."

"I do. Make sure Varel stays in bed, Oghren doesn't drink too much, and Zimri behaves himself."

"Has anyone ever been successful at making sure Oghren doesn't drink too much?" She wrinkles her nose. "Besides, any time I'm around him, he won't stop hitting on me. It's weird. And gross. And... isn't he married?"

I laugh. "Yep. But that's just Oghren. And you have my permission to smash him over the head with something heavy if he gets _too_ annoying."

"Oooh, I like the sound of that..."

After giving a few more instructions to various people that I want to make sure they get, I join Gabriel and the others and we head off to the city.

**oOo**

The trip is blessedly uneventful, mostly on account of the fact everything that might attack us is dead, or at least driven off. Keeping in mind my promise to Sigrun, I still make sure we keep up a good pace, so it only takes two and half days to reach the city.

"Well, this is where we go our seperate ways," I comment to Gabriel, when his checking discovers a ship leaving for the Free Marches inside the hour. "Good luck."

"My thanks. I shall need it."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

"Because Gabriel doesn't like boats," Kiv supplies for his best friend as he and Syn pass. "They make him feel queasy."

"Ah. I see. Where'd Aimon get to?" The dark haired warrior has vanished from the group.

"I think he went to find Stroud," Syn replies, gesturing off toward the chantry. "Hope he does it fast. We don't wanna leave them behind."

"I'm sure the ship captain will wait a few minutes," I point out. That turns out to be unnecessary, however, because even as we're speaking, Aimon and Stroud appear.

"See, Syn? No worries," Kiv teases.

She rolls her eyes and swats him on the arm. "Oh, you... Get on the boat. Now." The two of them are still playfully sniping at each other as they board.

I turn back to Gabriel. "So... 'til we meet again?"

"That seems the best thing to say.," he agrees.

"And thank you for your help. With the darkspawn and all."

"It is the duty of all Grey Wardens. Anyoneelse would have done the same, no?" He shrugs off my thanks. "I only wish we had lost no one."

I know who he means. "I'm not entirely convinced Velanna is dead, knowing her. And Justice... there wasn't really anything you could do." What happened to Justice is tricky to sort out; Kristoff's body was beheaded by a darkspawn, but none of us-not even Anders-are sure what., exactly, happened to the spirit at that moment. Being that speculation is useless and I've been insanely busy, I haven't had much time to dwell on it until now.

_I'll have to see if I can find Aura while I'm here..._ I note to myself as I wave a final goodbye to Gabriel and the other. _After I track down Nate._

**oOo**

It isn't all that hard to find Nathaniel. Just a short walk from the docks to what's left of Delilah's and the Henleys' houses. He's talking to his sister and a blond man I don't recognize, all three of them sweaty and just a little grimy.

"Making any progress?" I ask in greeting as I get closer.

Nathaniel turns, a half smile tugging at his lips. "Hello to you, too, Rahna. And yes, we have been making progress, actually."

"Mostly seeing what things we can salvage at this point," Delilah adds. She makes a face. "It's... not much, so far. How are you, Warden?"

"Mm, can't complain," I reply with a shrug, eyeing the blond man standing next to her, who, in turn, is eyeing me.

He speaks before I get the chance to, however. "Warden? Darling, is this..."

Delilah nods. "Yes. Warden, this is my husband, Albert. Albert, this is Rahna Tabris, the commander of the Grey Wardens stationed out at the Vigil."

"Well met, Warden, and thank you for saving my family." Albert smiles, brown eyes warming as he glances at his wife, and I decide I like Delilah's husband. "I'm forever in your debt."

I wave off the promise. "No, no. Aside from the fact it's our duty to fight the darkspawn, I hardly defended the city single-handed. I had plenty of help between the militia and the other Wardens who came with me."

"Still, from what I hear, you chose to stay and defend the city even when you received word the Vigil had been attacked. Not many commanders would take a risk like that, and I sincerely thank you."

"Well, you're welcome. I don't want to keep you from your work, I just wanted to check in with my second in command, see how things were going."

"Second in command?" Delilah echoes, raising an eyebrow at her brother. "You didn't tell me that part, Nate."

"It's not official," he mutters, shooting me a dirty look. I just smile back. "I didn't figure it was worth mentioning."

Delilah lets out an exasperated sigh. "What _am_ I going to do with you, brother?"

"Put me to work, I suppose, Del," he replies, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "That's enough of a break for now."

"I'll probably be back; I need to check the rest of the city, but I do want to talk some more," I tell them as I turn to go. "Oh, by the way, where's Vi?" Considering that not only are she and Delilah best friend-not to mention her crush on Nathaniel-but her house sat back to back with Delilah and Albert's, I would have expected to find her here, saving what she could.

A shadow slides over Delilah's face. "She was here with us, but everything she found had a memory of some kind attached to it. She couldn't stop crying. She went back to the chantry to help the sisters take care of the wounded."

"Ah. That makes sense." I nod. "See you later."

**oOo**

I track down Constable Aiden to get a report on how things stand in the city.

"Ah, Commander. Glad to see you survived," he greets me as I approach.

"Constable." I nod a return greeting. "I was hoping to get a report of how things are here. What damage there is to repair, casualties, things like that." I clasp my hands loosely behind my back as I wait for his reply.

"Well, there are a few sections of the wall that will need to be repaired, but most of the damage was to homes and shops from when the damned ogres came through."

I nod. "Yes, I've seen that first-hand. What about people? Dead, wounded, sick..."

Aiden winces. "More dead than you ever want to see among civilians. Wounded... well, our healers aren't mages, but they are skilled. Most of the wounded are mending. We've put them up in the chantry, so it's easier to care for them all. And because most of their homes are destroyed. Far as sickness, well, there have been some more cases of the darkspawn corruption that showed up." He swallows hard, eyes haunted. "Have you... ever killed someone out of mercy, Commander?"

Again I nod, remembering the sick feeling that accompanies sliding the knife home in someone who is not your enemy. "Yes." It comes out sounding rougher and more raw than I thought it would. "It's never easy."

"Try doing it when it's someone you've known your whole life. A neighbor... a friend."

"I'm sorry, Aiden," I say sincerely. "I know it's hard."

He clears his throat and gives a brisk nod. "That it is, Commander. Fortunately, there haven't been anymore... outbreaks for almost a week now, so I think that threat, at least, is past."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Good. It's hard enough to rebuild without something like that hanging over you."

"If I may ask, Commander..." He hesitates.

"You may."

"How fares the Vigil? I remember reports that things were not going well there."

"It still stands," I reply, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Barely. Voldrik has promised repairs will be possible, they'll just take time and money. The militia garrison took a heavy blow, and I lost a couple of Wardens."

"Sorry to hear that, Commander," Aiden says sincerely.

I sigh. "It happens in war. And Velanna may still be alive; I don't know. She vanished. But I shouldn't keep you, and I need to check in on how things fare in the chantry."

He nods. "Of course, Commander. I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

**oOo**

There are so many people in the chantry. It breaks my heart to see the price being paid by civilians. I know not everyone in here is wounded; there's the sisters and the Revered Mother, and others who are helping to care for those injured. But there's still a lot of cots. By the time I find the Revered Mother, I've lost track of how many people have recognized me, caught at my hand, and whispered fervent thanks for protecting them. Having been stuck in the palace with injuries of my own for the first few weeks following the Blight, getting to see people's gratitude like this is touching, so much so that I'm working hard to choke back the tears by the time I find the Revered Mother to ask if there's anything they need or that I can do.

"Oh, yes, Commander. We need more bandages. And we're running out of salves to put on burns, but all the herbalists are busy attending to the wounded," she replies, looking more than a little frazzled. "There's a girl working on more, but she can only make them so fast. Another pair of hands would not go amiss."

"Well, I can't do anything about the bandages until I get back to Vigil, at least, but I am decent with mixing up salves, so I can help with that," I offer.

"Maker bless you," the Revered Mother says fervently. "She's working over here..." She shows me into a small side room that's free of cots and clutter. There's one other person in the small space, wheat-blonde curls pulled back in a hasty, messy bun rife with escapees as she bends over a mortar and pestle.

At the sound of the door opening further, she looks up, surprise filling her green eyes. "Warden, er, Commander, I didn't realize you were back in the city."

"I only arrived today, Vi," I assure her with a small chuckle, noting the dark circles under her eyes. "It's not like you missed anything."

"Oh, good." She nods and returns to her task.

"You... know Miss Henley?" the Revered Mother asks.

"We've met before," I explain. "She's best friends with the sister of one of my Wardens."

"Ah, that would be Howe."

_Nathaniel_, I correct her mentally, catching the flash of irritation in Vi's eyes as well. "Mm-hm. Nathaniel wanted to look for his sister one of the times we visited the city, and we happened to... run into Vi as we were leaving."

"Well, then, you two will have a chance to get to know each other better." The Revered Mother bows and leaves the room.

I sit down across from Vi, reaching for the necessary components for a burn salve. "How're you holding up?"

She lets out a shaky breath. "It's... getting easier. So long as I keep myself busy and don't dwell on... them."

"Is that why you're here, rather than back at your house, salvaging what you can, like every other able-bodied person seems to be doing?"

Vi nods mutely, grinding the pestal hard against the herbs she's mixing. "I can't..." She takes a breath and tries agin. "I trust Del and Albert to know what I'd want to keep. And I don't..." her voice sinks to a whisper, "I don't w-want to cry in front of him."

"Him? You mean Nate? Vi, he's not going to think less of you if you cry because you miss your parents."

"I know," she sighs. "But knowing in your head is one thing, convincing your _pride_ of it is another. And... Have you ever liked someone before, Commander?"

I chuckle. "Oh, yes. I've liked several someones at differing points in my life. Been in love, too."

"Oh, I-I don't think I'd call it _love_, Commander," Vi interjects hastily, her face turning red as she plays with a loose curl and studiously avoids my eyes. "I'd have to be really sure before I used that word."

"Alright, then. _Like_ works for now." I smile at her.

"When you liked someone, you didn't want to show... weakness," she mutters the last word, huffing her loose curls back out of her face.

"Vi, a soft heart and loving relationship with your parents are not weaknesses," I correct gently. "Not everyone gets that. I know Nathaniel and Delilah didn't."

A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "Come to think of it, Thomas did seem to be the only one of his children the arl actually _liked_. Should've told me something..."

"Whaddya mean?" I ask, glancing at the recipe in front of me to make sure I get the portions right.

"Before the Blight, all the younger women in Amaranthine would talk about was Thomas Howe." She shrugs. "Can't really be surprised. If you didn't know his personality... well, I'll admit he wasn't hard on the eyes. If you're the type who goes for flawless good looks."

"Oh. One of those, huh?" I chuckle. "So, did you? Go for flawless good looks back then?"

Vi rolls hers eyes, pouring the finished salve into a vial and reaching for the components to start on another. "Only until the first time I saw him more... up-close. There was just something in his eyes. They looked like ice; hard, cold, cruel. Del has light blue eyes like he did, but hers never looked like that." She shudders. "After that, I could never bring myself to even pretend there was any appeal to him for me."

"And now you're sweet on his older brother," I tease.

She blushes. "I know, I know. Weird."

"No, no. Far from it. I think, honestly, you'd be good for Nate."

Vi grins, the perpetual look of sorrow changing to blatant curiosity as she leans forward. "Really?"

I nod, grinning back. "Uh-huh. He needs a girl like you."

"You must know him awful well to make that assessment," she hints.

"You could say that, I suppose." I know exactly where this is going, and I don't feel at all inclined to stop it.

"So..." She leans forward over the table. "Tell me more about him."

"With pleasure." And I do.

_A/N: Ay, Rahna, Rahna, Rahna... You do realize Nathaniel's gonna kill you now, right? xD Shame on you, young lady. This chapter wound up at least a page longer than I was expecting. I s'ppose it's because Rahna is chatty, and Vi is chatty, so sticking the two of them in a scene together is guaranteed to add a good bit of length. Not complaining, though. It was nice to write Vi for more than a line or two. She's a fun muse. Not that my other ones aren't, it's just cool to have a muse that's a completely normal girl; she's not a mage, a Warden, nothing about her is out of the ordinary. With all the 'speshulness' that's inherent to being a Warden(like almost all my other muses...), a normal girl is a welcome addition to the crainess that is my brain._


	77. For a Good Cause

77. For a Good Cause

By the time I go to bed, I've mixed so many salves and potions, my hands have cramped to the point I can hardly straighten my fingers and am desperately missing Anders. _Some kind of healing spell would go over great right about now..._ I think as I tug up my blanket, fighting a wince as my fingers spasm in pain at even the simple movement. _Maker, please let them no hurt so much in the morning..._

Normally I know better than to just keep going until the ache can't be ignored. Normally I know to stop and take a break to avoid this very thing. But normally I'm not lost in conversation with a witty and curious girl who wants to know everything I care to tell her about one of my best friends. Fortunately for Nathaniel, I don't know any embarrassing stories about him. Vi'll have to go to Delilah for those. My badly cramped hands seem a small price to pay to see some of the life seep back into Vi's smile.

But now I just want some sleep, and for once, I get my wish. I haven't had any more dreams of Alistair since fighting the Mother, but the darkspawn dreams are always there, teasing the edges of my mind, just present enough to make me a restless sleeper. But it stays to a minimum this time, allowing me a deeper sleep than I've had in longer than I can remember.

**oOo**

The first thing I see when I wake up is a little girl, thumb stuffed in her mouth, and a very well-loved rag doll hanging from her other hand. She's staring at me with huge brown eyes, and when she sees I'm awake, she cocks her head and removes her thumb from her mouth.

"Are you the Warden Lady who saveded us?" she asks.

"Mm-hm." I nod as I shove my hair out of my face and sit up.

"You snore," she informs me with all the gravity of a queen making a royal proclamation.

I chuckle. "Do I now?"

"Uh-huh. Not 's loud as my papa, but you _snore_."

"Is that what you were waiting to tell me?" I ask in a conspiratorial whisper.

She shakes her head, causing her twin braids to whip back and forth. "No. I w-wan'ed to say fank you. For saving Ameranteen."

I force myself not to smile at her mangling the city name. "Well, you're very welcome- What's your name?"

"Marra." She holds up her doll. "And this is Diana. She says fank you, too."

"You're both welcome, but, you know, I didn't save the city by myself."

She nods. "Mama said you had help. The mil-sha and other Wardens. But you were the boss Warden, so I wanted to say fank you to you _first_."

"I'm honored, Miss Marra." I cast a glance around the chantry interior and grin. "Now that you've thanked me, you see that man over there?" I point to where Nathaniel stands, leaning against the wall as he talks to Delilah.

"Mm-hm." She nods vigorously.

"He's one of the Wardens who helped me. You and Diana can say thank you to him, too."

She looks wide-eyed at him and then glances at Delilah. "Is he Miz 'Lilah's bruvver?"

I laugh. "Yes, sweetie."

"Okay. Then he's gotta be nice. Cuz _she's_ the nicest lady I've ever met." With that, she scurries off toward the two of them.

I smile and watch as I pull my hair back. I'm too far away to hear, but I wouldn't miss watching this for the world. Marra stands next to Nathaniel and Delilah, hesitating for a second before she reaches up to tug on Nathaniel's sleeve. I can almost hear her _'scuse me_ even from across the room. My smile widens as he goes down on one knee to be eye-to-eye with Marra. Nathaniel _is_ one of the taller humans I've met, and I imagine he'd be just a tad more intimidating than, well, _me_ for a little girl like her.

Marra only talks to Nathaniel for a few seconds, holding Diana close with one hand and gesturing with the other. Delilah says something to her, and Marra nods, pointing toward one of the cots where the people injured in the fighting are resting. She starts to head over to one of the women, but suddenly wheels around and darts back to Nathaniel, who stood when she walked away, hugging him around the knees before scrambling back to her mother.

Delilah covers her mouth with one hand, as if not wanting Marra to think she's laughing at her, but I'm looking more at Nathaniel. There's a faint, almost wistful, smile tugging at one corner of the archer's mouth. But it doesn't linger long before he turns to follow Delilah out of the chantry.

I hastily yank on my boots and rush after them. No way in the Void am I getting stuck making poultices and salves all day today, or I'll be good for nothing by suppertime. I'd rather shift rubble than grind herbs, anyway.

**oOo**

I don't catch up to the siblings until they're back at what's left of Delilah and Albert's house. Delilah is sitting on a large block of rubble with a slightly sour look on her face.

"They're ganging up on me, Warden," she comments grouchily as I approach.

"Love, this is not the kind of work for pregnant women," Albert points out, grunting as he and Nathaniel shift one of what used to be the ceiling beams. "Warden, d'you think you can explain to my incredibly stubborn wife that her helping with this is not a good idea?"

"Stubborn, hmm?" I shoot a knowing grin at Nathaniel, who just rolls his eyes at me. "That must run in the family," I mumble as I sit on a chunk of rock near Delilah's perch.

She nods, smiling ruefully despite herself. "It does. I might not have gotten as much as my brothers, but I did get _some_."

"They're right, though. Much as you may hate to admit it. You could hurt your baby."

She wrinkles her nose. "I know. But I hate feeling useless."

"You're far from useless, Delilah," Nathaniel informs his sister. "We'll have something for you to do in just a few minutes, but for now, stay put."

"Didn't take you long to get bossy," she teases, tucking her hair back behind her ears.

"Don't suppose it did, _little sister_," he shoots back as the beam finally moves. A fine shower of dust and pebbles falls free as stones grind together in their shift to create a hole. A hole just _barely _big enough for someone to fit through, which, of course, means all three of them look at me.

"What?" I ask, pretending ignorance. I know what they want me to do, and I can already feel the claustrophobia setting in. But if I don't do this, Delilah _will_, and even if she's only just starting to show, I don't like the idea of making her squeeze through that hole.

"Please, Warden," Delilah says softly, sensing my hesitation.

"It would be a great help," Albert adds, glancing at his wife. He's obviously come to the same conclusion I have.

I know I'm the best choice to crawl in there. I'm almost a whole foot shorter than either of the men, and even Delilah's a few inches taller than I am. I'm also much skinnier. But I'm _thinking_ too damned much, and my strongest fear is settling in at the mere _thought_ of climbing through that hole, into the close confines of the collapsed house. "I-I wouldn't know what you'd want to save."

"Just pull out anything that's not totally destroyed," Albert replies. "We can sort out what's worth keeping out here."

Unable to come up with another argument to this plan, I sigh, swallow my fear, and wriggle through the hole. It's a close fit, even for me, and I wonder if anyone else would have been able to make it. The rubble of the ceiling and walls seems to be stable enough, so I'm not worried about the already small space collapsing even further. All the furniture in the room-which looks to be the front room-has been crushed or damaged so badly, I know none of it is worth trying to get out. But some of the cabinets and such have things like linens in them, or small curios, and those I figure I can probably salvage.

I wind up having to break the doors completely off the first cabinet I come to in order to get them open; the fallen ceiling has so wedged them shut. I hit the middle of the buckled doors with the heel of my hand, and even with my less-than-stellar angle-caused by having to stoop to avoid the ceiling, which is only four feet off the ground-it's enough to bust them open. A stack of tablecloths and a small trinket box with a dragon design etched into the surface occupy the shelves. I very carefully work the trinket box free first; the cushioning of the tablecloths has somehow kept it from being broken and I'm not taking any chances of messing it up now. After the box is out, I rescue the tablecloths, wrapping one around the box for protection before shoving all of it out through the entrance hole.

"Here's something," I call as I push it through. It's caught by... one of the three. I can't tell which. After the great bundle of cloth disappears, Nathaniel crouches down and looks in through the opening.

"Are you doing alright, Rahna?" he asks, brushing loose hair out of his face.

I nod, fighting the urge to shriek when the stones behind me shift and groan slightly. "I'm f-fine," I reply, cursing my voice for wobbling. "'Sides, I don't think any of you would fit. Too big."

"I know how you are about tight spaces, Commander. If you reach a point where you need to get out, just do it. Breaks are allowed," he reminds me, an almost playful half-smile curving his lips.

"Noted, and thank you, Ser Second-in-command," I reply dryly. I turn my attention back to my task before he has a chance to reply.

I still hear him sigh in exasperation. I bet he rolled his eyes, too.

**oOo**

What ends up working best is me spending forty five minutes digging around for whatever I can find that's worth saving, then taking a break for ten minutes or so, then going back in. Though I have to admit, by about the third repetition of this cycle, I don't _want_ to go back in. I do, all the same. I have to. Not just to face my fears, but because I'm the only who _fits_.

_Should've brought Sigrun instead of leaving her in charge_, I grumble to myself, even knowing it wouldn't have been possible. As I told her; no one outside our team would accept my leaving a mage in charge.

My fourth time out, I get a bit more of a reprive, because I've checked as much of the house as I can get to, and Nathaniel and Albert need to shift some more of the rubble so I can get to the kitchen. Aside from that, my stomach happens to rumble as Nathaniel's helping me climb out, so he makes me get something to eat.

"He ever go all 'Mother Hen' on you?" I ask Delilah as I-reluctantly-obey her brother.

She chuckles. "No. But he never really needed to, Warden."

"You _can_ call me Rahna, if you want, Delilah." I let out a wry chuckle of my own. "After all, Nathaniel _is_ a really good friend. Practically like a brother. Which, by extension, sort of makes you almost like a sister. I guess."

She laughs. "I'm honored, War- Rahna. I'll try to remember."

"I'm not much for titles, anyway," I mutter under my breath. Delilah still hears me and smiles.

"You should be able to get to the kitchen now, Warden," Albert calls when they've moved enough rock that I can squeeze in. And I do mean _squeeze_. Due to a lower level of stability on this side of the house, this hole is even smaller than the other one. Everything in me recoils at the idea of squeezing through there, but I have to do it.

"If that collapses and I wind up trapped in there, I'm going to kill you when I get out," I whisper to Nathaniel.

"Why me?" He's humoring me, helping keep my mind off that damned small hole, for which I'm grateful.

"Because there's no more darkspawn, and I don't know Albert well enough," I shoot back.

"Ah. Well, then, it makes perfect sense."

"Don't you dare laugh at me, Nathaniel Howe."

"As you order, Commander. Now, the sooner you get in there, the sooner you can get out."

I scowl. I hate it when he's right.

**oOo**

The one thing in my favor is that the kitchen ceiling didn't buckle as far down as the living room, so not only is there a little more room, but things are less crushed. I hear a new voice outside as I shove out a bundle of pots and pans, and pause to listen. After a few seconds, I smirk to myself.

It's Vi. Apparently I'm not the only one to balk at the idea of mixing poultices all day. I'm just impressed she had the guts to come back here, hard as she was telling me it had been to deal with. I can sort of hear her conversation with the others, and in the end, there's a crunch of footsteps followed by the unmistakable sounds of the men trying to make a hole into what's left of the Henleys' house for her.

When I poke my head out after another bunch of cookware, she's sitting next to Delilah, the two of them talking as they sort through dinged-up pots and pans. I smile and get back to work, muffling a sneeze in the crook of my arm. I'm so covered in granite dust, I probably look like some kind of ghost.

Eventually, the close confines get to me, and I have to wriggle my way out of the hole. I join the other women, absently rubbing at a new scrape on one arm as I sit next to Vi. Something in the direction of her house seems to have captured both her attention and Delilah's, and I have to choke back a laugh when I realize _what._

_I guess it is kind of warm out... _"You know you're staring, right?"

Vi just shrugs in answer to my question, not even looking in my direction. Her gaze is fixed on my now very shirtless second in command, who's also pulled his hair up in a ponytail that reminds me a startling amount of Anders'. Not that I'll ever tell _him_ that. "So's she." A careless gesture motions toward her best friend, who is indeed downright _ogling_ her equally shirtless husband-who, I have to admit, doesn't look bad for a storekeep.

"Yeah, but... she's _married_ to the one she's staring at," I reply with a grin. "You're staring at Nate like..." _Like I used to stare at Alistair, _my brain finishes for me. Memories rise unbidden of my warrior stripping off his shirt mid-way through a practice duel against Zev, and Leliana's gentle teasing about the fact I was suddenly incapable of looking elsewhere.

"Like what?" Vi's still looking at Nathaniel, not me, but I can't really blame her.

"Like my mabari eyes a steak," I tease.

She at least has the decency to blush, finally tearing her gaze off the archer and looking over at me. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Actually, you are," Delilah contradicts, grinning even as she keeps her eyes on her man. "While I can't complain about your tastes in men, be nice to my big brother, alright, Vi?"

The poor girl is absolutely scarlet now. "I don't.. I don't even know if anything is going to _happen_ between me and him," she protests.

"He catches you staring at him like that, it will," I tease.

"Oh, Maker..." she groans and buries her face in her hands, stray wisps of hair slipping between her fingers.

"Don't worry, we won't tell," I promise. From her wry but slightly panicked laugh, I can't tell if she believes me.

_A/N: And we get shirtless!Nate, because I can, and I need a mental image to drool over. XD Poor Vi, getting caught in the act by Rahna, of all people. Now if Nathaniel starts doubting if Miss Henley is interested, a certain Warden-Commander can assure him she oh-so-definitely is. *evil laugh* On another note, I'm hoping to finish this story up soon, and move on to the third massively huge Rahna story. XD I do have reasons for wanting a divide between this part and the next, mainly because I feel like this was another stage of Rahna's life. Aftermath was one, Absence is another, and the third one(still finalizing the name...) will most likely be the rest of her story. Provided I get it all written and junk before DA3 comes out and forces me to adjust things like 2 did. :\ Not a happy panda at _

_the thought of where things are going to have to go with Anders._


	78. Long Process

78. Long Process

I can't help but offer repeated thanks to the Maker when it gets too dark inside the collapsed house for me to see. Given the close confines, a torch would be a very bad idea, so not being able to see means I get to be done. And there's only the bedroom left to salvage, which I jokingly suggest Albert take care of himself, as I'm not sure they want me going through their clothes.

I fall in step beside Nathaniel as we head back to the chantry for the night. He instinctively checks his stride so I can keep up without running, and I chuckle. "Thanks for that."

"Not a problem," he replies. "What did you need, Rahna?"

"We're going to need to head back to the Vigil soon. Tomorrow, or the day after. I promised Sigrun I wouldn't leave her in charge for more than a week."

"So, one more day to help, and then leave to following morning?"

"Something like that, yes," I nod. "Otherwise I'm going to have a very pissed Legionnaire to deal with when we get back."

He chuckles at that. "Surely you can handle Sigrun, _Commander_."

"I dunno about that," I shoot back with a wry smile. "The only time we dueled, she beat me. Now, granted, I probably would've beat her in the rematch, but her shoulder wound up dislocated, so we called it a draw and went to find Anders."

"Now I'm almost curious what would happen if the two of you did come to blows," he comments.

"I could always blame you for delaying our return, and then watch her go after _you_ instead." I grin up at him. "I think that would be highly entertaining."

"And I think she would have a rather large advantage, considering the height difference between humans and dwarves," he points out, smiling _just_ a little.

"Coward."

"No, just weighing whether it would be worth the risk. I'm not as good at close quarters fighting as the two of you are, and I think if the two factors were combined... Sigrun would have more of an advantage than I would be willing to test." He smiles at the skeptical look I'm giving him. "I was a scout, remember, Rahna. I'm very good at avoiding fights I don't think I can win."

"There's... there's some awesomely barbed comeback to that I'm not thinking up because I'm tired," I yawn.

"Excuses, excuses," Nathaniel chides, smirking. "What would Anders think?"

"He'd probably think up that comeback I'm missing," I shoot back, fighting a laugh. "Guess it's a good thing for you I left him back at the Vigil."

"Yes, my pride thanks you for that," he returns dryly.

I giggle as we reach the chantry and Albert holds open the door for the rest of us. "Your pride is very welcome." Once we're inside, I split off from the others. I'll let them talk; hopefully my not being there will make it easier for Nathaniel and Vi to talk to each other, even if just a little bit. _Yes, I am playing matchmaker for one of my best friends. So what? He deserves a shot at being happy. _

Tired as I am, I'm so covered in dust and dirt, I don't think the Revered Mother would take kindly to my sleeping in one of their beds like this. So I rustle up some water and a rag in order to make at least a half-hearted attempt to clean myself up. I even have granite dust in my _mouth_, for the Maker's sake. I clean up, change, and tumble into bed, grateful that at least my hands don't hurt tonight.

_I still wanna do somethin' diff'rent tomorrow..._ part of me complains, already muzzy with exhaustion. _Tight spaces and I don't get 'long well, an' I need t' help other people, too... _With that defense floating through my mind, I succumb to the pull of sleep.

**oOo**

_"How are they ever going to rebuild?" I whisper as we pass the burned-out shell of yet another village that's fallen to the darkspawn. It sits as a half-collapsing ghost town, the inhabitants either dead or running for their lives._

_ "Most won't," Alistair replies, squeezing my hand. "Or, rather, can't. If the ground is corrupted, no one will be able to settle here for decades to come. They would turn into ghouls, and no one wants that. Too much slobbering and groaning, and old friends trying to kill you. Things like that."_

_ Somber as the scene might be, I can't help but giggle. "Nothing like a little gallows humor," I mutter, squeezing his hand back. "Alistair, we have to stop this. Soon. Before everywhere looks like... this." I glance at the village again and shudder._

_ "We will, love," he assures me. "Now that the dwarves have a bloody king, we can worry about the Landsmeet and taking care of Loghain." His eyes harden. "And then maybe we can finish this."_

_ "Alistair..."_

_ "The sooner we end the Blight, the sooner people can get to... to rebuilding, as you put it. It may not be where they started from, and it will be a long process, but once the fear of more darkspawn is gone, this nation can get back to what it should be."_

_ "You absolutely positive you don't want to lead it to what it should be?" I'm almost scared of how he'll answer; Alistair's matured enough during this past almost-year that I think he could do it if he wanted to. But that would mean me losing him, and I'm selfish enough to fear that more than I fear leaving Anora in charge._

_ But he nods, and my fears are for nothing. "I'm sure. I'd be a horrible king, Rahna, and you know it."_

_ "No, I actually think you'd do a decent job," I contradict. "You're a good man, Alistair, and I think you'd make a fine king. But if you don't want to do it, I won't force you." I shoot him a saucy grin. "Besides, this way I don't have to share my warrior prince with all of Ferelden."_

_ He rolls his eyes. "You know I hate it when you call me that, you little minx."_

_ My grin turns to a smirk. "You'll just have to make me pay for it tonight," I whisper as Leliana calls out that she can see Redcliffe in the distance._

_ "Oh, you can count on that," he promises under his breath, his voice sending all thoughts of the village husk skittering out of my mind in favor of much... __**steamier**__ images. _

_ "Mmm, looking forward to it. My prince."_

**oOo**

The memory is such a very good one, I'm reluctant to wake in the morning, but I know there's still work to be done. So I drag myself out of remembering exactly how Alistair made me pay and scrub sleep from my eyes. One of my hair ties is missing, forcing me to pull my hair back in a single ponytail, rather than pigtails. I stuff my feet in my boots and go in search of someone who knows what still needs doing, rolling up my sleeves as I walk. Callouses on my fingers snag the soft green fabric, and I chuckle as I glance at my hands. _Definitely not the hands of a soft life..._

Alistair still loved them. He used to kiss the tips of all my fingers, topping it off by planting one in the center of my palm. His small way of assuring me he found every last inch of me gloriously beautiful. My fingers curl in at the thought. That's one of the things I miss the most, now that he's gone.

But I've reached the city guard-captain and Constable Aiden by this point, and force the memory away as I nod a greeting to them both. "I was wondering if there was anywhere that nneds additional help, whether it be muscle or just a pair of hands." I catch the slightly dubious look the constable gives me and raise an eyebrow. "I'm stronger than I look, ser."

"No, I know that, Warden-Commander," he replies hastily. "I just... We thought you were assisting your fellow Warden's sister and her husband."

"I was. But I'm responsible for the whole city's protection, not just theirs. If anyone else needs help, I'm perfectly willing to do something else. 'Sides, they have Nathaniel, and it doesn't seem fair to me that both the Wardens in the city help one couple the entirety of our stay."

Constable Aiden bows his head briefly in gratitude. "We thank you for that. Some of the folk who live in the outlying houses, the ones just outside the city walls, have been unable to return to their houses until just a couple days ago. I'm sure their task must seem overwhelming, and they would appreciate all the help they can get. Talk to Saul." He points to a bearded Rivaini man of average height, who does indeed seem to be in charge of _something_, the way the small knot of people nearby are looking to him for instruction. "He knows what they need."

"Sure thing." I nod and head over to see what I can do to help.

Saul sees me coming and quickly wraps up whatever he was saying, offering me a nod of respect. "Warden. How can I help?"

"Actually, I was about to ask you that," I smile at him. "I understand you've a more daunting task ahead of you than some, and thought I might offer another set of hands."

He looks surprised by that for a moment, playing with the beaded ends of the two narrow braids hanging against his left cheek. "If you're serious, Warden, we would be glad of the help," he finally answers. "They've been too worried about the risk of corruption to let us return to our homes, and those who live outside the walls suffered more casualties to start with. If you hadn't shown up when you did, I don't know if we'd have homes to go back to."

I shrug, feeling slightly awkward at the praise. "Yes, well... just doing my job."

"And how did the Vigil fare with you _here_ rather then there?" he asks.

"Barely held. Needs a lot of work. But I couldn't _not_ help. There were more than enough skilled Wardens at the Vigil to keep it safe, and I was needed here."

"Warden, considering the attitude of the last person to rule the arling, frankly, your perspective is a jarring but welcome change," Saul points out as we head out, snagging something to eat as we go.

I concede the point with a nod, part of me morbidly curious just how horrible Arl Howe was to his own people. _Probably better not to know, considering your inabilty to keep your mouth shut and the fact you're close friends with the man's son._ I can just imagine myself spouting off something Nathaniel would rather not know about what his father's done, and the image makes me wince. We want to avoid that.

**oOo**

All the citizens who form Saul's group prove to be remarkably hard workers, not a slacker among them. Even the children who come along-mostly boys in their teens, all taller than I am, and rather gleeful about that fact-pull their weight, and Saul seems to have a gift for delegation. He knows exactly what job fits best to which person, so everyone is reasonably happy with their assignment.

It's still hard work, so there are good-natured complaints about anticipated sore muscles or splinters, but they're made in jest. One of the men, who looks enough like Saul I suspect they're brothers, starts singing what sounds like a pirate shanty, and soon everyone who knows the words is singing along. I'm glad I'm not the only one who's _not_, because that might get awkward. But even if I knew the words, I have a terrible singing voice. I want to help these people, not horrify them.

Fortunately, the day passes quickly. Never has the saying about many hands making light work been proven so true. There's still a lot to do, of course; rebuilding is going to be a long process for these people, even longer than for those inside the walls. But we made a lot of progress today, and the expected sore muscles all around serve as proof of that as we head back to the chantry.

"Papa!" A blur of black hair and a blue-green dress tears past everybody else to launch herself at Saul.

"Hey, Marra-bear! Were you good today?" he chuckles as he catches her and swings her up on his shoulders, only wincing slightly at the stretching of sore muscles.

"Uh-huh." Marra nods vigorously, circling her hands around her father's forehead rather than grasping his tied back dreadlocks to keep her balance. "Aunt Me-Me said I was a_ biiiig _helper."

"Oh, really? Good girl. Where's Diana?"

"She's keepin' Mama comp'ny," Marra informs him, letting go with one hand so she can stick her thumb in her mouth as her father mounts the chantry steps. "'Cause Aunt Me-Me had to go talk to the Revered Muvver."

"Ah, I see. And how is your mama doing today?"

"Much better," she proclaims with a grin. "Sisser May said she should be_ all _better soon!"

"That's great, Mar. Why don't you go tell Mama I'll be in in just a minute? I need to clean up first."

"Yes, b'cause you _smell_," she agrees, wrinkling her nose as she climbs down.

Saul laughs and tickles her until she's whooping with laughter. "Just for that, I'm eating your dessert tonight, missy!"

"Stoppit! Papa, _**stop**_!" Marra shrieks, dancing out of his reach and giggling so hard she can barely breathe. "And you can't take my dessert. Know why?" She clasps her hands behind her back and rocks up on the balls of her feet, grinning impishly at her father.

"Why's that, Marra-bear?"

"'Cause I already promised Mama _she_ could have it. To help her feel better. And you love Mama too much to take it from _her_," she informs him triumphantly.

"Augh, you're right about that, little miss. Now get goin'." Saul nudges her in the direction of the propped-open chantry door and turns his attention to the basins of water the Sisters placed along the edges of the chantry's porch. He scoops up a double handful of water and douses himself with it, wiping away the majority of the dust and grime coating his skin before he turns to me. "I'm sorry, Warden, you're probably wanting some explanation?"

"I... am a bit curious, yes," I admit, following his example with the water.

"My wife was hurt in the initial darkspawn attacks, the opening ones that sent Peter scrambling for the Vigil to warn you and your Wardens," he explains. "Hurt pretty bad, actually. But that mage you brought with you helped with the worst of it, and the healers here were able to do the rest, apparently. And glad I am for that. I would have hated to save her only to lose her anyway."

"Is that... when you got those?" I point to the pair of still-healing scars that start between adjoining knuckles on his left hand and trail back to his wrist. They look too fresh to be from anything else.

"I love my wife, Warden," he replies simply. "I wasn't going to let anything more get to her, no matter how dangerous that decision may have been." A wry grin twists his lips. "Then again, socking the bloody monster in the jaw probably wasn't the smartest thing I could've done. It was _damn_ satisfying though."

I laugh. "I'll bet it was. But I'll let you go; your wife probably wants you with her."

"My thanks, Warden," he laughs, and offers a brief nod of farewell before heading inside the chantry.

**oOo**

Once I've cleaned up, I head inside to see if I can find Nathaniel. I want to find out what kind of progress they made today. I find him with Albert, Delilah, and Vi in one of the few quiet side room left in this place. Most of the more able-bodied people have been put up in the Crown and the Lion, but there are enough people in the chantry, between those still healing, Sisters, templars, and people checking in on injured family and friends, that finding a quiet spot is nothing short of a miracle.

"So, how did you make out today?" I ask as I sit down next to Nathaniel-noting that he moved _toward_ Vi to make room for me, rather than just letting me sit between them.

"Very well, actually, despite the fact you were sorely missed," he replies. "We just had to make a larger hole so Albert could get in."

"Well, then," I bite my lip. "Would it be safe to say you all could manage without Nathaniel? We need to be getting back to theVigil, and the sooner the better. I was considering leaving tomorrow, in fact."

"I... suppose we could," Delilah nods reluctantly, glancing at her brother. "Most of the heavier lifting is done. I think we would be alright on our own."

"Is leaving tomorrow really necessary, though, Rahna?" Nathaniel protests, and I'm forced to clamp down on a wild desire to cheer-or at least _smirk_-when I notice that his gaze is aimed more at Vi than at his sister.

"Nate, I already told you what I promised Sigrun," I remind him. "And I'd rather not break that promise. We need to leave tomorrow."

He sighs but nods. "Very well."

"We- We'll miss your help," Vi mumbles, completely missing the fact he's looking at her due to the fact _she_ is staring at the bowl of stew in her lap.

Fortunately, _both _of them miss the knowing look that passes between me and Delilah, which turns into a smirk on my part rather quickly. I do believe I've just found a new partner in crime. At least for this.

_A/N: More Marra, because I couldn't resist. C'mon, she's adorable with her daddy, admit it. =P And another memory of Alistair, because it's been awhile since I stuck one of those in there. In other news, I have decided if-as I anticipate-Nate and Vi turn into an actual couple, rather than just sneaking glances at each other when they think no one's looking, it will be because Rahna and Delilah nudge them out of their respective comfort zones. XD Now, back to the Vigil, and more plotiness! Possibly inserting a break to have Gabriel make an appearance, because y'all know I want to write more about him, and we have to see if he winds up the same place as Miri. =)_


	79. Worth It

79. Worth It

It's harder to leave than I thought it would be. For starters, I can tell Nathaniel would _really_ prefer to stay a couple more days, and whatever I may have promised Sigrun, I can't help but feel guilty as I watch Delilah hug her brother goodbye. I'd let him stay and come back when he feels like it, but I sleep so deeply it's a really bad idea for me to travel alone.

I'm careful not to smirk too widely as he turns to exchange farewells with Vi, giving her such a proper, courtly bow I'm half surprised he doesn't kiss her hand. It's easy to forget he's the son of a noble when we're sharing a rough-plank bench to eat a simple meal after a day of hard work. Or both splattered with darkspawn blood. But it shows through at moments like this, and I'd be willing to bet that same upbringing is what keeps him from kissing her hand. It would seem too forward, I'm sure, to him at least. Even if I can see in Vi's eyes she wouldn't mind at all as she mumbles a goodbye of her own.

Marra turns out to be the other hard part of this departure. "Where're you goin', Warden Lady?"

"I have to go back to the Vigil," I explain, trying to peel her off my leg. Any possible jealousy that Nathaniel got a round the knees hug and I didn't has evaporated as I attempt to make her let go.

"Why?" My job gets easier when she lets go with one hand to suck her thumb.

"Because the Vigil was attacked by darkspawn, too. And since I'm the boss out there, I need to make sure it gets put back together alright."

"Oh." She bites her lip in contemplation. "Why?"

"Why, what? Why am I the boss or why do I have to be there?"

"Bof," she mumbles around her thumb.

"I'm the boss because I'm very good at killing darkspawn and protecting people who need me, and I have to be there because the lady I left in charge while I'm gone doesn't like being in charge. It makes her nervous. So I promised her I'd come back and be in charge. You don't want me to break a promise, do you?"

Marra shakes her head. "No. Bweakin' pwomises is bad." Her grip on my leg slackens, and I successfully peel her off, only to have her cling to my fingers instead. "But you come back, right? You'll v... visit?"

I nod. "I'll try, Marra. But I have a lot to do at the Vigil, so it might be a while before I can come back, okay?"

She nods and finally lets go completely. "Okay. 'Bye, Warden Lady."

"Finished with your adoring public?" Nathaniel asks glibly as I join him at the door.

I shoot him a dirty look. "Don't give me that, ser Howe. I saw you with Vi."

He somehow keeps a straight face, but I can tell it's taking work. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Commander."

"Mm-hm. Sure ya don't." I roll my eyes. "Let's go. Or we'll get back late and I really will tell Sig it's your fault."

**oOo**

We walk in silence for the most part, largely because Nathaniel's brooding about something. Not having seen this side of him in quite a while, I figure this something must be pretty damned important and just leave him alone-mostly. I can't resist occasionally asking him questions, some of them inane, some not, all answered with disinterested, monosyllabic grunts.

"I could be set upon by bandits and you wouldn't even bloody notice," I mutter at one point.

"Not true," he returns, reaching in his pack for food. "Here. It's about lunch time, and if we want to keep to your timetable for getting back, we'll have to eat as we walk."

I shake my head at him. "How d'you manage to pay attention to so many things at once and not miss _anything_?"

"Years of practice," he replies, half-smiling, before we lapse into silence again. This time it lasts until we stop for the night. And beyond even; neither of us says a word as Nathaniel prepares dinner-he _is_ the better cook out of the two of us-and I set up the tent for whichever up us isn't on watch to sleep in.

I wasn't going to say anything about the fact he seems even more serious and, well, almost _grumpy_ than I've seen him in a long time, but after watching him stare at the campfire and do no more than absently play with his food for a good twenty minutes, I can't help myself. "Alright, what's eating you, Nate? You're the one who made dinner, so I know it's not my horrible cooking that's keeping you from eating."

He barely smiles at my joke. "It's nothing, Rahna."

"Don't give me that. Look, I know _something_'s been bothering you all day. So don't lie." I think I know without him saying, but I want to be sure. "It's about Vi, isn't it?"

"I..." he sighs and reluctantly nods. "...Yes."

"I'm sorry for making you leave, but even I don't want to travel alo-"

"That's... not it," he interrupts, holding up a hand to stop me. He sets aside his bowl and pulls out one of his daggers, staring at the blade as firelight flickers off it.

"Maker, you _really_ like her, don't you?" I demand, setting aside my own half-finished dinner.

Nathaniel's silent for a long-very telling-moment, twirling the dagger with the point resting lightly against one finger, before slowly nodding. "...I think so."

I grin. "So, I'm confused why you seem so moody about that. She's hardly hiding how she feels about _you_. What're you afraid of? That it won't work out?"

This time, he shakes his head, still not looking at me. "Just the opposite, actually."

"Okay, now I'm _really_ confused," I mutter. "You like a girl who _obviously_ fels the same way about you, and you're afraid it _will_ work out? What's wrong with you?"

A wry smirk tugs at his lips. "I'm a Warden."

"Ah." I'm suddenly not confused any more. Figures Nathaniel would be the type to consider every facet of a choice before making it. "And having drunk darkspawn blood doesn't exactly do much to increase your longevity, is that it?"

"No, it doesn't," he agrees. "And that's if I don't get killed fighting the bastards."

It's a fair point, and I pause to mull it over a minute before I reply. "Leaving aside my incredulity at the thought of _you_ getting killed by some stupid _**darkspawn**_..." I sigh. "It does hurt an awful bloody lot to lose someone you care about like that. But, speaking from experience, even if I'd known that; known going in how it would end and how much it would hurt, I still would have fallen in love with Alistair. I wouldn't do a single damn thing different, because it was _beyond_ worth it."

Nathaniel nods slowly, seeming to process my admittedly passionate argument. "With... respect, Rahna, you're a Warden, like Alistair. You knew the risks, or at least most of them. You were _allowed_ to know all the risks. If things were to... go _somewhere_ between Vi and I, I would have to ask he to accept me taking risks she wouldn't be allowed to know about. She would have to be alright with me keeping secrets, a lot of them. And I've seen firsthand what secrets can do to a relationship; what one person being a Warden can do to a relationship. I... wouldn't want to hurt her. She's been through enough as it is."

"Wow." I blink in surprise. "You've really thought this through."

"I really like her," he replies quietly.

"I knew it," I crow.

"Yes, yes, you were right. Congratulations and all that." He waves off my triumphant smirk. "I'm honestly not surprised."

I giggle. "Good, because if you were, I'd _really_ have to wonder if you've been paying attention. So, what're you gonna do? About Vi, I mean."

He sighs, giving the dagger another twirl. "I suppose... think about it some more. And then I need to talk to her."

"Sounds like a good plan," I agree. "In fact, I think I'll help."

Nathaniel raises an eyebrow at me suspiciously, apparently not buying my attempt at an innocent smile.

"In order to do that thinking about it you wanna do... you can take first watch."

He sighs and shakes his head. "I walked myself right into that one, didn't I?"

"You kinda did," I nod, grinning at him. "But don't feel too bad; there're people who have known me my whole life and _still_ walk themselves into stuff like that. At least you have the excuse of only having known me a couple months."

"That seems a rather flimsy defense, given how much time we've spent together inside that couple months," he retorts.

"True. And given your uncanny knack for detecting traps, I guess you really should've seen that coming," I tease.

"...Go to bed, Rahna."

Being _me_, I can't go without getting in the last word. "I think you might be letting this second-in-command thing go to your head, Nate."

I hear him let out a wry chuckle at that as I duck into the tent and kick off my boots.

**oOo**

Something's wrong. I have absolutely no evidence to support the feeling that clenches my insides as Nathaniel and I reach the Vigil late the next day. No evidence other than the fact Nathaniel sensed it, too. It's not the type of wrong that screams '_They're all dead and you're walking into a trap_' like when I first arrived at the Vigil, and there's been an air of solemn loss hanging over the place since the Mother's attack, so that's not new.

But it is _deeper_, I realize as we pass the outer gate. And I'm not just imagining it. My pace automatically quickens, and I'm practically running, Nathaniel right behind me, by the time I reach the throne room.

"Hey, boss." Anders' greeting lacks the typical cheery, teasing note-and actual eye contact; one more sign something isn't right.

"Who died?" I demand, hoping desperately I get his usual 'No one you'd know' in reply.

Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs before looking at me. "Garevel."

I blink in surprise. "But... you told me he was doing better."

"He _was_." Anders sighs again, huge dark circles under his eyes evidencing how hard he tried to avoid this outcome, and shakes his head. "I don't know what happened. He was... well, not fine, but getting there, and then suddenly he _wasn't_ and I couldn't do a damned thing. Fastest moving infection I've ever seen."

"You sure it was that and not darkspawn corruption?" I have to ask.

He nods. "I would've sensed corruption. This was... something else. Some kind of, well, almost like a sleeper poison."

I wince. "Now there's a scary thought... So, where's Sigrun?"

He shrugs. "Beats me. I've been in here the past couple days; hardly set foot outside the throne room. She's probably making rounds or something. She does that when she gets antsy."

"Thanks, I'll find her." I head out of the keep, having a pretty good idea where to find the interim commander and not wanting to Anders or Nathaniel to see how honestly shaken I am by Garevel's death. It's not like we were the best of friends or anything like that, but he was a good man and didn't deserve to die like that. But then again, none of them did. From a strictly pragmatic point of view, it could be argued that since the Vigil was saved and the darkspawn threat eradicated, their deaths were worth it. I still hate losing people.

I shake my head and force my thoughts off this morbid track. _Focus on something else, Rahna. Sigrun. Where'd Sigrun get to?_ That's actually a rather easy question to answer, since I know exactly where I would go if I was in her shoes, and I have a feeling she'd do the same. I adjust course accordingly.

**oOo**

I love being right. I can hear Sigrun rambling away to the mabari even as I open the stable door.

"...I'm not cut out to be in charge. 'M better at following orders than giving them, and I don't like being responsible for so much..." She sighs. "I s'ppose it could've gone worse. Still, I can't wait 'til the Commander gets back."

"Well, it's nice to be missed," I tease, shutting the door behind me.

Fade jumps up with an overjoyed bark and charges toward me, his front paws colliding with my shoulders and pinning me against the door as he licks my face.

Sigrun's not far behind him. "Oh, thank the Ancestors, you're back!"

"While I'm glad the power hasn't-Fade, knock it off!-hasn't gone to your head, Sig, surely it wasn't _that _bad." I shove the mabari's head to the side, scratching behind his ears as I do.

Sigrun just gives me a '_You __**are**__ kidding, right?'_ look and simply replies, "Zimri."

"Ah. I stand corrected. Was he a pain in the arse?"

"Well, _that_ goes without saying," she mutters. "And his legs have healed enough he doesn't want to stay in bed any more. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happiest about the fact he's your problem again."

"Okay, so Zimri's getting more annoying and Garevel died..." I sigh. "Maker, could this get worse?"

"Oh, I'm not done yet, Commander," the dwarf smirks a little. "Zimri has a friend now."

"Do tell," I mutter, feeling the headache start already.

"Mm-hm." She nods. "Some templar from somewhere in the Bannorn. He heard there was a need for Wardens here and volunteered. Apparently, darkspawn destroyed his chantry, and the whole village, so he likes the sound of getting revenge on them."

"Pretty flimsy reason for joining..."

"You let Velanna join for pretty much the same reason," Sigrun points out.

I glare at her. "Not. Helping."

She giggles, looking unrepentant. "Sorry."

"No, you're not," I retort. "So this templar... has he been through the Joining and everything? Or could I still kick him out if I want to?" I know having templar training does not necesarily make you a bad person; I wouldn't have fallen in love with Alistair if that were the case, but the fact this man is _friends_ with _Zimri_ gives me a bad feeling.

"Yep. As in, he's had his Joining. Sorry, Commander. We need more Wardens, and you can always send him elsewhere if he's too much trouble."

"Very true," I concede. "Where might he be? So I can talk to him and see if he's gonna be a problem?"

Sigrun shrugs. "Probably with Zimri."

"Thanks. Guess I should get this over with..." Part of me protests the idea; pointing out I'm tired from walking all day, so my temper's going to be on a shorter fuse than usual. Not a good thing, considering how much the man's likely to irritate me. I shut it down, vowing to try my best to give him a fair shot at staying on my good side.

**oOo**

The best of intentions on my part simply aren't enough some times, and this is one of them. I find our newest Warden right where Sigrun said I would. The first point against him is the way he and Zimri stop talking the second they see me coming, as if discussing something they know I wouldn't condone.

"Commander," Zimri greets me, his tone one of grudging respect.

"Zimri," I return. "Glad to hear you're doing better." I turn to the other man. "I understand you're new?"

The blond warrior rises and offers a properly respectful bow. "Yes, ser."

"I'm afraid I haven't learned your name yet," I confess, returning the bow of greeting.

"Rolan, Commander," he informs me. "It is my honor to serve under the Hero of Ferelden."

"That was nothing," I brush him off. "I wasn't even the one to strike the killing blow." I know what he's trying to do, but his ingratiating manner rubs me the wrong way. The rest of our conversation doesn't go any better. Rolan is very skilled at not explicitly stating feelings one way or the other on any major issues, like mages, but I can see in his eyes he agrees more with Zimri than with me. But we're stuck with him for now, so I decide to make the best I can of it. He survived the Joining for some reason.

By the time I turn into for the night, I'm bone-weary and dearly hope no one needs me terribly early the next morning, because I plan to sleep in for the first time in a bloody long while. I had enough on my plate without worrying about a new Warden who harbors templar sympathies still.

And the messenger who arrives the following day doesn't make my life any easier, either.

_A/N: Why, yes, I do enjoy tormenting you with cliffhangers. :3 'Tis fun. And yes, Rolan is *that* Rolan. Anyone else gets chills? *shudders* About Nate and Vi... I can really see Nathaniel being the one who would really think out and be careful with any new relationship, and I think he would take into consideration the fact that he's a Warden and the effects that would have on a potentially romantic relationship. I mean, he was there when Rahna gave Nida Keenan's wedding ring, and when she talked to Aura. With his nature and personality, I think he would remember how being married to a Warden affected both women, and take it into consideration when being nudged toward a relationship with a non-Warden._


	80. An Invitation

80. An Invitation

I'm in that muzzy state of half-awake; where you're too out of it to really focus on anything, but awake enough to really enjoy my warm and comfy bed, when someone ruins it by knocking on the door.

"What?" I growl in the general direction of this incredibly unwelcome interruption.

The door creaks open and I fight the urge to glare murderously at the serving girl who pokes her head in timidly. "Beg pardon, Commnader, but there's someone here t' see you."

I groan and bury my head back under the pillow-maybe Jowan's rubbed off on me more than I thought-pulling up the blankets as I mumble, "Unless it's the bloody queen herself, they kin jes' wait."

"It's... well, it's a royal messenger, ser." The girl's tone is apologetic, she knows I was looking forward to sleeping in, but also conveys the underlying point it may as well be the queen.

I let out another groan and roll over, raking my hair out of my face as I sit up. "You can tell them I'll be out in a minute, Millie."

"Yes, ser." She nods and ducks away, closing the door behind her.

I glance at the shuttered window as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Far as I can tell, it's earlier than I'd planned on getting up, but still not horrifically early. I'd still wanted more time before I dealt with trying to figure out who to name as Garevel's successor, what to do about Rolan, and the other five dozen tings that all demand my attention today.

Apparently, the Maker has different plans for me. Can't say I enjoy Him playing secretary and screwing with my plans for the day, but it is what it is. I climb out of bed, dress hastily in the first clothes my hands touch-a dark blue shirt and light brown trousers-and go to give this messenger their audience.

**oOo**

He a young man, no more than eighteen or nineteen at most, with curly black hair and wide pale grey eyes. He drops to one knee in respect as I appear out of the hallway, still pulling back my hair, and I decide I like this boy. If he has no qualms showing respect to an elf, that's something in his favor.

"Warden-Commander, I-I'm sorry to intrude, but I bring a message from Her M-Majesty that I'm to give you at on-once, and wait for your reply." He pulls a carefully secured scroll from under his travel-stainedcloak and hands it to me.

"Thank you." I nod as I take it from him. Hearing the way his voice cracks make me think he's rather younger than my initial guess. Fifteen or sixteen and tall for his age, maybe. "You look like you've been riding hard," I comment.

"I have. Hardly stopped for a breather, ser." His gaze wanders in the direction of the kitchens, drawn by what I must admit is a rather intoxicatingly delicious smell.

I chuckle. "Go on, tell whichever cook's in charge today that the commander says to spoil you a little. I'll read this and give you an answer when you get back."

His eyes light up. "Thank you, ser!" He's off toward the kitchens before I can say another word.

_That' a growing boy for you..._ I smile to myself at his enthusiasm before making my way up to the wall so I can read this missive in relative peace.

**oOo**

By the time I finish reading, I want to do nothing more than crumple Anora's message into a ball and let one of the mages burn it to cinders. But I can't.

"I take it from the look on your face this isn't good?" Jowan chuckles when I jump.

"Damn it, don't _do_ that!" I protest, huffing loose wisps of hair out of my eyes.

"Do what?" he asks, pretending innocence as he sits next to me.

I glare at him. "You know what, you evil mage. No sneaking up on my bad side."

"Oh, right. Sorry." He at least has the decency to look sheepish at the reminder I can't see out of my left eye. "Here, will these do as a peace offering?"

"Oooh, sweet rolls!" I snatch them out of his hand. "You're forgiven," I mumble around my first mouthful of my favorite food in the world. "Mmph, they're still warm."

"Well, _that_ was easy..." Jowan teases, reaching for the scroll I dumped on the parapet to go after the rolls.

"Anora wants me to come to her wedding is the long and short of it," I explain as I watch him read the document. "I can bring two guests with me, and it is technically just an invitation..."

"So why d'you look like you swallowed something sour? he asks, rolling the message up.

"I don't wanna go," I admit. "I don't particularly _like_ Anora. Hayden, her fiance, is alright, but Anora and I don't see eye to eye on... well, a great many things." I sigh. "Plus, attending a wedding means I'd have to wear a _dress_."

Jowan laughs at the face I'm making. "Oh, c'mon, it can't be that bad."

"And how would you know?" I shoot back, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He give me another sheepish smile. "Mage, remember?"

I smakc my palm against my forehead. "I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not. You'r t ired, possibly a little bit cranky, but you're _not_ an idiot. That's _my_ job."

Despite his light tone, I still roll my eyes at him. "Jowan, am I gonna have to bop you for bein' too hard on yourself again?"

"Whaddya mean 'again'? You've never made good on that threat," he reminds me with a grin.

I shoot him a dirty look and lightly whack him on the back of the head. "Now I _have_. Now, I need to focus on _this_, Jowan." I sigh, tapping Anora's invitation against my knee. "So help me think, shut up, or go away. Please."

"Well, if you don't want to go, can't you politely decline? I mean, there's a lot of work still to be done fixing this place up. Could you use that as an excuse? You're always reminding me that Wardens don't owe their loyalty to any particular nation. You don't _have_ to go," he points out.

I chew on my bottom lip for a minute, mulling over this incredibly tempting suggestion. "But relations between the Wardens and Ferelden have only just started to improve, and I don't know if it's right to risk jepordizing that just because I don't feel like dressing up."

"What do you mean?" Jowan leans forward, bracing his forearms against his knees.

"Whatever _my_ opinion of the queen might be, the Fereldan people-for the most part-adore her. If they see a Fereldan Warden slighting their queen, it might damage the goodwill we've managed to win back with the whole killing-the-archdemon thing."

"Oh, yes, because you saving their collective arses _**twice**_isn't enough," Jowan comments wryly.

I giggle. "You obviously haven't spent much time among the Fereldan nobility. They have incredibly short memories on some things." I grin at him. "If I go, maybe I'll drag you with me."

"Rahna, _don't_." He gives me a look that's just short of begging. "Do you really think it's a good idea to bring a known blood mage-regardless of the last time I actually used blood magic-to the queen's wedding? Where there will be lots and lots of nobles and templars and the bloody _Revered Mother_?"

"You're a Warden. They don't have to like it, they just have to deal with it." I grin fiendishly. "Y'know, I actually really like this idea."

Jowan groans and buries his head in his hands. "You're insane."

"Yep," I concur cheerfully, popping the last bite of sweet roll in my mouth. "Life's more fun this way. Now I just have to figure out who else to bring..."

**oOo**

By the time Anora's messenger has eaten his fill, I've composed a brief reply message for him to carry back to the queen. Aside from a wicked desire to show up for her wedding with a mage in tow, there was a small note on the invitation that looks like Anora wrote it herself, vaguely referring to another matter she wishes to discuss with me should I choose to come.

Whatever issues I may have with the woman, I have to admit she knows how to pique my curiosity, which is the surest way to gain my cooperation. Her wedding to Hayden is just over a month distant by now, but her postscript said she would appreciate it if I would try to come rather sooner than that so we can discuss this other matter, whatever it is. My guests and I are welcome to stay at the palace, and would have access to whatever parts of the city we wish. The idea of having an excuse to visit my family is the final push I need to accept her invitation, and include a promise my guests and I will arrive as soon as possible. I still need to work out who to leave it charge and figure who I'm bringing with me besides Jowan.

"Thank you once again for your kindness, ser," the messenger smiles as he takes the parchment from me.

"You're very welcome." I return his smile. "I know how hard it can be to focus on your duty when distracted by an empty belly. Now, if you didn't rest much, are you going to need a fresh horse?"

"Oh, no Commander. My mare's a tough old girl. The rest she's gotten by now should be enough, and I'd best be off for the palace."

"Safe journey to you, then." I offer a formal bow of farewell, which he matches before turning to go. I wait until the door closes behind him to head for the kitchen myself. Those sweet rolls were good, but not nearly enough to keep me going until lunch.

**oOo**

I wind up eating the rest of my breakfast with Sigrun, who actually seems mildly glum for once. "What's wrong, Sig?"

"Huh?" She wrinkles her nose in confusion.

"You aren't smiling. You're _always_ smiling. So what's wrong?" I repeat as I sit next to her.

"Oh, I'm not sure, actually," she admits, aimlessly dragging her spoon through her bowl of porridge. "I just... miss Syn, I guess."

I chuckle. "You two did seem to get along rather well."

She nods. "I had fun with her. Even is she is a former noble. She pointed out she was stripped of her caste when she was exiled, anyway, so we're essentially in the same boat as far as Orzammar's concerned."

"Good point. And I guess it is nice to have a friend who knows where you're coming from, at least a little."

"Yeah. Ancestors, she was fun..."

"Why do I have the feeling if she'd satyed the two of you would be pranking the living daylights out of Anders?" I tease.

"Because we probably would've," she returns with a grin. "C'mon, you'd be helping, Commander, admit it."

"What? Me? Play a practical joke on my healer? I would _never_," I retort, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Sure you would!" Anders hollers from across the room.

"Quit eavesdropping!" I shoot back, glaring at him and trying not to smile. I fail miserably at the last part, which means the glare doesn't last long. "_Anyway_, ignoring the nosy habits of a certain mage... I had something I wanted to talk to you about, Sigrun."

"Why does it sound like you about to ask me to do something I'm not gonna like?" she demands, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Because I sort of am..." I give her an apologetic smile and explain briefly about Anora's invitation.

"You're thinking about leaving me in charge again, aren't you?" she interrupts halfway through.

I nod. "I know you hate it, and this would be even longer than last time-a month, at least-but the way things look, you're the best, if not only, choice."

She sucks on the inside of her cheek-probably to keep from swearing at me. "Explain."

"Of the people I _could_ take with me, and would want to, I've already decided I'm bringing Jowan, and I'm leaning toward Nathaniel for the other."

"A blood mage and a Howe?" Sigrun snorts a laugh. "At a royal court function? I may not know much about human politics, Commander, but I know enough to say you can really pick 'em. I hope your little _He's nothing like his father _speech is riding right on the tip of your tongue, 'cause you'll be sayin' it a lot."

I sigh. "I thought of that. And there's the little detail that the queen's fiance is a Cousland. But of all my options, Nate's the only one of noble birth, which means he's the only one who would have a prayer of knowing how to act at a royal wedding, and I desperately need someone like that along. Elves don't exactly get taught proper court etiquette."

"Good point," she concedes. "So, why Jowan?"

"For reasons one part petty, one part selfish," I admit. "He's just about my best friend in the entire world, and after spending so long apart, I don't really wanna do that again if it can be helped. That's the selfish part."

"And petty?" Sigrun nudges, giving me a look that makes me think she read more into my explanation thus far than I intended her to.

"The way Anora phrased her little addition to the invitation... she was trying to manipulate me; hitting my two soft spots-curiosity and family-in order to get me to come. I don't like being manipulated, so bringing a blood mage to a wedding-which will be presided over and held in the Chantry, I'm sure, is my way of showing she's not my boss. I mean, even if all anyone knows is that Jowan's a _mage_, that'll be enough."

"You are an evil genius," Sigrun giggles.

"Thank you. I've really had to work at it," I deadpan.

"And so this is why you wanna leave me in charge again? Why not Oghren? He's better now."

I give her an incredulous look. "You _really_ think leaving _Oghren_ in charge of this place is a good idea?"

She winces. "Okay, yeah. Maybe not..." She sighs. "You're just trying to keep me from leaving for my Calling aren't you?"

"Nope. I genuinely need someone I can trust, Sig. You havin' to delay your Calling is just a bonus," I tease. "Does that mean you'll do it? Varel'll be able to help you this time, I'd bet."

"Won't he be focusing on educating Garevel's replacement as to his or her duties?" Sigrun reminds me.

"Only for the first week or so. And I'm sure he'd still help you if you needed it. That man is among the best I've met."

She sighs. "I'm not getting out of this, am I? Fine, I'll do it. But only if you swear to make me your absolute last resort authority figure for the next five years minimum."

"Done," I grin. "Now to figure out how to tell Nate..."

Sigrun grins evilly. "Best of luck with _that_."

I make a face at her as I stand. "Thanks ever so much. I have a feeling I'll need it."

**oOo**

"Anders, have you seen Nate?"

The mage shakes his head. "Not since the two of you got back. Need me to be on the lookout? Now that my biggest problem is keeping your bloody stubborn seneschal from overdoing it."

I laugh. "Why am I not surprised? And yes, thanks. If you see Nate just tell him I"m lookin' for him."

"Will do, boss," Anders promises around a yawn.

"Anders, you didn't pull an all-nighter again, did you?" I demand, hands on my hips as I send him a teasing glare. "I told _you_ not to overdo it, remember? You're not the only mage here, and definitely not the only healer."

"No, no all-nighters, I promise." He yawns again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just had trouble sleeping, some damned odd dreams..."

I wince. "Sorry about that. Though it's weird the Warden dreams are still giving you trouble; there aren't any darkspawn around here anymore..."

Anders shakes his head, frowning. "It... wasn't Warden dreams."

"Then what was it?"

He sighs. "Justice. He came to me in the Fade, kept pestering me about freeing other mages..."

I shrug. "Based off the couple conversations I caught between you two, sounds like same old, same old."

"Well, that wasn't the weird part," Anders admits. "The weird part was that I... part of me was starting to agree with him."

"Knowing you, yeah, that is weird. Just... If you listen to him, don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Aye, aye, boss. And I'll watch out for Nathaniel for you, too."

"'Preciate it," I grin as I head off. His help turns out to be unnecessary, however, as I run into Nathaniel in the hallway a few minutes later, barefoot and still wearing yesterday's clothes. Seeing as he's usually more put together than that, I feel an eyebrow creep upward. "You alright, Nate?"

He nods, dragging one hand through his hair. "Bit of a rough night is all, Rahna. I'm fine."

I snort. "First Anders, now you... seems there was a bit of an epidemic of trouble sleeping last night."

He shakes his head. "Yesterday was... would have been Thomas' birthday," he explains.

"Ah. Say no more." I hold up a hand to forestall any further detail. Willing as I always am to listen, some things don't need to be dredged up. And Nathaniel looks perfectly happy letting this alone. "I was looking for you, anyway, Nate."

"Should I be worried?" he mutters with a wan smile.

"Ha, ha. But actually, it's quite possible. I need to ask you a favor..."

_A/N: Two sort of cliffhangers in a row, yikes. I really do apologize for that. This one wasn't planned, I swear. But the chapter had to end somewhere, and, well... this ended up being where. On a more positive note, I"m finally getting somewhere with my intended plot, after Rahna hijacked the story for a couple chapters again. :I Darn crazy elf..._


	81. Not Letting Go

81. Not Letting Go

"What's wrong, boss?"

Gabriel returned Syn's impish grin with a sour look. "I told you, I don't do well on boats."

"Oh, right. That's why you're that fun shade of green, yeah?" The dwarf raised her hands in innocence and backed away when Gabriel glared at her. "Okay, okay. I get the message. I'm leaving now." She turned and left, probably off in search of Kiv. Once she was gone, Gabriel braced himself against the railing and stared down at the water crashing against the hull of the ship, its unrest strangely mimicking the current state of his stomach.

"I take it you're not much of a traveller, are you, handsome?" a low voice chuckled nearby.

He tore his eyes off the roiling sea and glanced at his new company. The honey blonde woman looked every bit the sailor, from her knee-high boots and worn trousers to the pair of small gold hoops hanging from each ear. "Actually I travel quite a lot, no? Just... rarely by boat."

"Mm. I see." She smiled. "So, what's different about this time?"

"Warden business," Gabriel replied. "That, unfortunately for me, requires traveling by boat instead of simply walking."

"Ah. Say no more. We get enough Wardens crossing to and from Kaiten I know not to pry." She held out a hand in greeting. "Name's Ceera, by the way. I'm the first mate on this lovely vessel."

"Gabriel." He took her hand and kissed the knuckles, almost breaking into a chuckle of his own at the surprise the flickerd on Ceera's face.

"Hhmm, manners. Haven't seen those in a long time. I guess that accent of yours ain't just for show, huh?"

Now he did chuckle. "No, no. Born and raised in Orlais."

"So, where'd you learn the manners? I've been to Orlais, Gabriel. I know elves are rarely more than servants there. Highly valued servants, but servants all the same. So where did you pick up proper courtier's manners?" She raised an eyebrow as she leaned back against the railing next to him.

"You caught me. My master's younger sister showed me a few things while she was teaching me to read. But only a very few, no? Kissing a lady's hand is the best I can do." A good-sized wave chose that moment to smack into the side of the boat, and Gabriel's grip on the railing tightened until his knuckles went white. "_Merde_!" He chuckled just a little sheepishly as he loosened his fingers from the wood. "I see what you were doing, you clever woman. Keeping my mind on a conversation rather than the water."

Ceera grinned unapologetically. "I find it helps people who don't like sailing. But I have to get back to work, so you're on your own now. Think happy thoughts."

Gabriel grinned back. "Oh, I have just the thing."

She laughed at that. "I know that look. What's her name?"

"Miri."

"Pretty name," Ceera nodded. "You just think of her, Ser Gabriel, and what remains of this voyage will fly by."

Gabriel did just that.

**oOo**

"C'mon, sweetheart, what's got you all worked up?" Luc settled back in his chair as he asked, eyes on the pacing mage.

"I don't know!" Miri returned, a bit more hotly than she'd meant to. "Sorry, Luc. I'm just... jittery. I don't even know _why_." She cracked her knuckles and glanced toward the harbor.

"You expecting someone?" the dwarf asked, plucking an apple off the table and taking a large bite.

"That's the really crazy part," Miri muttered. "It feels like I am, but I know I'm not. I mean, I can definitely think of someone I'd _like_ to be expecting, but I doubt he'll be free to come anytime soon. I should calm down, but I just _can't_."

"Maybe your body knows something you don't, no?" Luc shrugged. "It's happened to me more than once. In both good ways and bad."

"How do I make it stop? This is driving me crazy!" Miri slammed one fist into the wall, frost spidering across the stones nearest her hand.

"That's the problem; since it starts for a reason, it goes away only when ya don't need it anymore. You can't make it stop." Luc looked at least a little apologetic. "Sorry, Miri."

She sighed. "Not your fault. I'm gonna go see if the practice range is free. Maybe blasting some dummies will take the edge off..." Muttering under her breath and fiddling with the cord of her Warden's Oath, the elf stalked out of the room.

**oOo**

Thinking about Miri definitely helped, but Gabriel was still relieved beyond words when the ship finally docked. There was still a couple hours' walk to look forward to, but he didn't care, so long as they were on solid ground.

"You planning to kiss it once we're off?" Kiv teased as the Wardens all shouldered their packs, having caught the grateful looks his best friend was casting in the direction of dry land.

"_Non_. I'm not that pathetic, Kiv Marrin," Gabriel retorted, tossing the other elf a withering look. He grinned. "Beside, my kisses are reserved for Miri, no?"

"You mean aside from the one you planted on the first mate's hand?" Syn piped up.

"That was different, no? That was a properly respectful greeting."

"So what you really mean is all your kisses that actually _mean something_ are reserved for Miri?" she persisted.

"Yes, fine. Now, let's get off this ship."

"Aye, aye, boss-man." Syn gave a teasing salute, grabbed Kiv's hand, and made a beeline for the gangplank. Gabriel bit back a chuckle as he waited for Aimon and Stroud before disembarking himself. Much as he disliked boats, he was the commander of this team, for now at least, and he felt responsible for making sure they were all accounted for. But once he was sure they were ready, they headed for the Warden base at a pace nearing double-time.

**oOo**

No matter how many practice mannequins she blasted or froze, Miri couldn't get the strange, almost aching sense of expectation in her gut to diminish one iota.

"What in the Maker's name is sodding wrong with me?" the elf growled as yet another dummy toppled sideways in protest of a particularly vicious attack. She groaned and tugged on her bangs as she marched down to the line of wooden mannequins to stand it back up. She hated this feeling and wished it would go away. The lack of success in accomplishing that goal was only making her more frustrated. Once she finally got the mannequin to cooperate and stand straight, she marched back to where she'd been standing and started summoning a chain lightning spell. Maybe she just needed something with more power to it. Maybe that would help...

**oOo**

Gabriel was barely through the doors of the fortress before he was shedding his pack and demanding of the first Warden he saw, a dwarf with hair only a few shades lighter than his own, where to find Miri. The dwarf just grinned and jerked a thumb at one of the hallways.

"She's in the practice range. Down that hall, take the third hall on your left, then just straight to the end. Y' can't miss it."

"Thanks." Gabriel was moving that direction even as the dwarf finished speaking. He could hear Syn and Kiv laugh behind him, but he didn't care if that was directed _at_ him or not. He followed the hallways, and found the practice range. It was just as easy as the dwarf had made it sound. He peeked through the half open door, grinning when he saw the tiny, dark-skinned mage standing with her back to him. She was in the middle of summoning something big, and he knew from experience how wrong that could go if interrupted, so he slipped quietly through the door and leaned against the wall to wait until she'd cast it. The lightning bolt that leapt and crackled free of her hands was among the most powerful he'd ever seen her unleash.

After releasing it, her shoulders slumped a little with exhaustion and he heard her sigh.

The warrior felt a grin curve his lips as he finally spoke. "Nice shot."

**oOo**

Miri whirled at the unexpected interruption and stared at the redhead as if she couldn't believe he was there. "Gabriel...?" His name escaped in an uncertain whisper.

"Shame those were practice dummies and not darkspawn, no?" he continued, all but smirking at her.

"_Gabriel!_" Finally convinced she wasn't dreaming, Miri forced her feet to move and lunged at him. Her arms circled his neck and her fingers tangled in his shaggy hair as she kissed him, feeling his hands settle on her waist with that gentle but firm grip she loved so much. The one that quietly said it wasn't letting her go anytime soon. She pulled back from the kiss a scant inch only when her brain started demanding oxygen. "Maker's _**breath**_, I've missed you!" she whispered fervently, reluctantly working her fingers free of his hair and letting her hands rest on his shoulders instead.

Gabriel chuckled, his breath rushing softly against her cheek. "The feeling is quite mutual, _cher cœur_." One of his hands left her waist to tip up her chin as he kissed her again, this one softer, shorter, but just as sweet. Miri's fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt and she buried her face against the crook of his neck.

"I'm not letting you go, love," she mumbled, inhaling the scent of soap and sweat and grass and salt water that clung to both his shirt and his skin.

"So we're just going to stay right here forever?" She could hear the smile in his voice, before it dropped to a whisper and he murmured something in her ear.

Miri's eyes widened and she pulled back to look him in the eye. "Gabriel Andras! I never-"

He cut her off with another kiss, deftly turning to switch their positions so she was the one trapped against the wall, and countered, "Yes, you have. Don't tell me you've forgotten that night in Verchiel already..."

**oOo**

He had to fight a chuckle as he watched her go that wonderful shade of dusky rose that would have been pure crimson on lighter-skinned woman. "Ah, so you _do_ remember. _Merveilleux!_"

Miri smirked at him. "I not only remember, love, I have an idea for an... improvement. What do you say we switch this time?"

Gabriel raised his eyebrows and grinned. "You have an absolutely _filthy_ mind, woman."

She walked her fingers up his chest and lightly brushed her thumb against the scar on his cheek. "Coward," she baited in an undertone.

"I didn't say no; I said you have a filthy mind, love," he pointed out, bending to kiss the curve of her neck.

"Ah-ha," she laughed softly, one hand creeping back up to tangle in her hair again. "So you'd be willing?"

"Darling, at this point, I'd be willing to do just about anything." He kissed the edge of her jaw. "I've missed you _that_ much. However, I have Warden-business type things I have to do first."

"Way to kill the mood," Miri scolded lightly, knowing he was right. She kissed him again. "Go do your business type things. But tonight you're mine."

Gabriel chuckled. _Andraste's blood, and I wonder why I love you..._ "As my lady commands, no?"

"Damn straight." She cupped his jaw with one hand, and Gabriel gently grasped her wrist and pulled the hand away to plant a kiss in the center of her palm. "Hmm... if this is what a three month absence does to you, maybe I won't complain so much next time."

He wrinkled his nose at her for that remark and kissed her forehead before letting go and stepping back with an extreme reluctance. "Hopefully there won't be a next time, Mir."

"_That_ is purely wishful thinking and you know it, love. Now go talk to Marius before he worries you've gotten lost or something."

**oOo**

"I'll see you in a little while, _cheri_," Gabriel promised as the two of them left the practice range together.

"I hope it really is just a little while," Miri muttered. "Marius will probably want a very good explanation for why you're so much later than you were supposed to be. Assuming you're those reinforcements they wanted in the Marches." Something occured to the elf and she stopped Gabriel with a hand on his arm. "Did Jowan-"

"He's still in Amaranthine. Rahna didn't seem overly inclined to let him leave so soon."

Miri smirked. "No, I imagine she wouldn't be..."

Gabriel shot her a look. "You noticed that, too?"

She snorted. "I've been best friends with Jowan for ages. 'Course I noticed." She made a face. "Problem is, I don't think either of _them_ have noticed it yet."

"Now, now, _amor_, no playing matchmaker from half a bloody continent away." Gabriel chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze before sliding it off his arm so they could go their separate ways. "If it is meant to be, it will come to be, no? And if not, you will simply ruin a wonderful friendship. And you don't want that on your conscience, do you?"

"S'ppose not," Miri conceded. She gave his hand a matching squeeze before letting go. "See you later."

"Indeed you will, _ma petite coquine_."

As she watched him go, she wasn't really surprised by the fact the ache in her gut had vanished.

_A/N: So... this was not supposed to be a whole chapter on its own, but Gabriel and Miri wouldn't shut up. XD Can't really blame them; as thye say, it HAS been three months since they last saw each other. They've gotten a bit steamier in their time apart. That saying about absence making the heart grow fonder definitely applies in their case(and in Miri's I think it got a little dirty, too. :3). I love that while Rahna's busy playing matchmaker with Nathaniel and Vi, Miri's trying to do the same with her and Jowan. What're friends for if not meddling, right?_

_Translations(as always, from Google; my french is rusty):_

_ma petite coquine= my little minx_

_amor=love_

_cheri=darling_

_cher cœur=dear heart_

_merveilleux=wonderful_


	82. Proof Enough

82. Proof Enough

I can't really say I'm surprised that Nathaniel takes a little convincing. When you really think about it, I'm asking more of him than I am of Jowan. With Jowan, so long as we don't hide that he's a mage and I say he's with me, we shouldn't have too much trouble. I see no reason to bring up the fact he dabbled in blood mage. But for Nathaniel... all of Ferelden's nobility knows the Howes, and even if he's been gone for eight years, I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard for someone to come to the correct conclusion as to who he is. And there's now a stigma to being a Howe that's almost-_almost_-comparable to being a mage.

"Weird as it sounds, the fact you were in the Free Marches is a really good thing," I point out, leaning against the fence that marks off the archery range. I've long since figured out that this is what Nathaniel does when he needs to think. He practices.

"Do tell," the archer murmurs, lining up a shot.

"Alright." I climb up to sit on the top rail of the fence, bracing myself against one of the posts to make sure I don't fall. "First of all, if you were in the bloody Free Marches for _eight years_, how could you have been privy to the whole 'betray the Couslands and become Loghain's chief bootlicker' scheme?"

"A fair point," Nathaniel concedes. His arrow drills into the target just a hair left of center, and he shakes his head at the miss-slight as it is-and reaches for another arrow.

"Second-and forgive the painful subject-fathers don't in essence _banish_ children they like." I feel beyond horrible bringing that particular argument to the table, but if Nate's gonna make me convince him to come, I'm not holding anything back. I _need_ him there with me. "The mere fact he sent you to the farthest corner of the Free Marches he could is proof enough the two of you didn't see eye to eye."

"True." This shot hits dead center, and I see the satisfaction glimmer briefly in Nathaniel's eyes.

"I mean, I know squiring is something a lot of nobles do with their children, but it's usually closer to home isn't it? So you can maybe visit occasionally and letters go back and forth quicker-"

"More quickly," he corrects, faint smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "I think the distance and lack of communication for eight sodding years is proof enough you weren't in on things."

"Rahna, you know as well as I do-" he looses another arrow at the target "-most people don't like to think things through that much. They hear _Howe_ and think of what my father did."

"Well, then, I'll get a lot of practice reining in my temper," I mutter, kicking my heels back against the fencepost. "Y'know, so there's not some big incident with the Commander of the Grey beating nobles senseless..."

"Why even take the risk, though?" he asks, finally turning to actually look at me as he unstrings him bow. "Why is it so important to you that I come along?"

"I take you everywhere, remember? I'd hate to break that streak," I tease before sobering up. "I'll be walking into a hornets' nest of politics, Nate. The more people I have that I know I can trust, the better I'll feel. You and Jowan both fit that description, so can you really blame me?"

"No, I don't suppose I can," he admits, handing me his bow so he can retrieve the arrows.

I use it as leverage to hop off the fence. "Plus, um, of all the Wardens here, you're the only noble... so I was kinda hoping you could fill me in on court etiquette type stuff."

He starts to chuckle, but stops himself. "You seem to have managed alright during the Landsmeet, _Commander_."

"That was _different_." I fight the urge to stomp my foot for emphasis. "No one expects an elf plucked from the Alienage and immediately thrust in the middle of a bloody war to have time to learn proper etiquette. Now that some time's passed-and this _is_ the bloody queen's _**wedding**_-they'll expect me to have picked up some things." I shrug helplessly. "Please, Nate?"

He sighs and mutters something under his breath. "Fine. I'll come."

"_**Yes!**_ Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I can't resist giving him a hug, though it's one-armed and clumsy since I don't want to drop his bow. I can almost hear him mentally asking what he's gotten himself into.

Maker help me, I don't care. So long as he comes. "There are commander type things I hafta take care of before we leave, so you have a day or two to pack and get ready."

"Noted, Commander." He slips the arrows back into the quiver and takes his bow back. "I'll go prepare, then."

I follow him back into the keep, trying to enjoy my success without my thoughts drifting to everything else I have to do.

**oOo**

Jowan catches me pacing and muttering in the hallway outside my bedroom not too much later.

"What's wrong?" He knows better than to make me stop when I'm pacing out a problem, but _I_ know _him_ too well to try and pass this off as nothing important.

"It's too small in there," I reply, jerking my thumb toward my bedroom. "I needed more room to pace."

"That's what I meant, Rahna. You only need lots of space for really big problems. I thought you'd made up your mind about Anora's wedding, so what's bothering you now?" He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"I need to name a new captain of the guard before we leave," I explain. "And everyone I'm thinking of is either dead or needed in the city." I sigh, dropping to sitting position with my back against the wall and aim a scowl at the ceiling. "Maker, this job is so damn difficult. 'M no good at it."

"Hey..." Jowan pushes away from the wall, switching to my side of the hallway and sitting next to me, both of us with our knees bent up. I pick at the beginnings of a rip in the knee of my pants, the threads unraveling under my attention, rather than meet his eyes. "You're being awful hard on yourself today, Rahna. You sure you're okay?"

I nod, finally looking up to give him a sheepish smile. "Just frazzled. Too much to do, and all stuff _I_ have to do."

"Actually..." He bites his lip for a second before he continues. "I might be able to help with guard captain problem."

"Do tell." I almost burst out laughing when I catch myself echoing Nathaniel, right down to the skeptical tone. Skepticism fade to interest however, as Jowan tells me about the soldier who helped him when Varel got hurt. From the sound of things, young though this Cor fellow might be, he has a good head on his shoulders, cares about the other soldiers stationed here, and is either very lucky or a very good fighter. According to Jowan, Cor's one of the few uninjured soldiers in the whole base.

"Plus, from some of the things he said, I think he and the seneschal have some history. And I mean that in the postive sense," he finishes.

"Alright, proof enough for me," I chuckle, leaning my head back against the wall. "I'll talk to Varel, see what he thinks, and if he's for it, I'll track this kid down."

Jowan lets out a short, wry laugh.

"What's so funny?" I demanded, lightly punching his shoulder.

"Rahna, Cor's right about the same age as you and me," he replies, rubbing his shoulder absently, more out of habit than anything. I know I didn't hit him _that_ hard. "_Maybe_ two years younger, but I doubt it's even that much."

I shrug. "I'm fairly certain all we've been through makes us older than our years. I sure feel that way sometimes..."

"I'll give you that," Jowan concedes, brushing his thumb over the scar on his palm. "But still, _try_ to remember when you talk to Cor, alright?"

"Fine, fine." I give an exaggerated huff, blowing escaping wisps of hair out my eyes in the process. They flop right back, and Jowan laughs as I reach up to brush them aside. "It's not like your hair behaves any better," I mutter, reaching over to flick at the loosely done tie holding it back.

"...I'm not ever going to go there." He pushes away from the wall and stands, offering me his hand. "C'mon. You have commander type stuff to do, remember? And I need to finish packing." He makes a face, and I can't help but giggle. I know he's less than thrilled about going, and is just doing it for me.

"Oh, it won't be _that_ bad," I cajole, accepting the hand up. "But on the subject of packing... Um, you don't happen to have any mage robes _with _you, do you?"

**oOo**

_Oh, sweet Maker..._ The headache he'd successful staved off all day flared up at the question.

"Yeeesss..." Jowan drew the word out hesitantly, knowing _exactly_ where this conversation was going and already unhappy with it.

Rahna shot him an apologetic look. "I was thinkin' you should, um, probably have 'em with you, to wear for the important stuff, like Anora's wedding. Any other meetings we might hafta go to. Stuff like that."

Yep. He'd called it. The mage sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to swear. Not at _Rahna_, Andraste knew he'd sooner cut out his tongue, but at the _circumstances_? Definitely"If you really think it's a good idea," he finally muttered. "I mean, mightn't the queen see it as... taunting her?"

Rahna shrugged. "I don't bloody care if she does. I'm more worried about the Chantry thinkin' we're _hiding_ the fact you're a mage. Whether because they think we're ashamed of it or plotting something... I just don't need that." The elf rubbed the back of her neck. "'Sides, I'm kinda curious how you'd look." Her sheepish expression morphed into a smirk. "Probably have girls all over you."

_...I'm going to kill you._ Jowan just shot her a dirty look.

**oOo**

Maker, he is so _**damned**_ fun to mess with sometimes. "I'm _kidding_, Jowan," I giggle. "Maker's breath..."

He just sighs and shoots me a Look. "What were you just saying about being older than your years?"

"Hhmph, ouch. Low blow, ser mage." I'm still giggling as I protest. "If you weren't so easy..." I shake my head. "Never mind. Go finish packing. I need to talk to Varel..."

"Brat," he mutters under his breath, roughing my hair as he turns and heads down the hallway.

I stick my tongue out behind his back and go in search of Varel. The seneschal's recovered enough that no amount of talk on Anders' part or mine can convince him to stay in bed. While part of me wants to strangle the man for being so difficult, I am grateful he's still around. And he did promise not to try and do too much. I'm well aware that our definitoins of "too much" may differ, but I still trust him not to push-if only so he doesn't relapse and have to listen to me saying _"I told you so"_.

I finally track the man down in the kitchens. "Does your healer know where you are?" I tease.

He turns and smiles at me. "Commander. I don't give a damn if the mage knows where I am. I haven't eaten yet today, and I'm well past the point where you need to baby me. Though I am touched by your concern."

"I must admit, concern is not the reason I was looking for you," I confess. "I trust you to know your limits, Seneschal."

"Well, then... Why were you looking for me?" He picks up the bowl of stew one of the cooks has pushed across the table to him and motions that he'll follow me out of the kitchen.

"I'm going to be leaving again in a couple days," I explain, leading the way to my barely-used study. "I wasn't planning to go anywhere until things were more... fixed up around here, but I received an invitation to the queen's wedding, coupled with mention of some other private matter she wishes to discuss with me, and thus I'm off to Denerim probbaly the day after tomorrow. So, my first reason in looking for you... since you're feeling better now, would you mind helping Sigrun as much as she'll let you with keeping things running smoothly?"

"Of course, Commander," Varel nods, blowing on the stew as we reach our destination. "You know I'm always willing to help." He frowns. "Is there are particular reason things wouldn't run smoothly, ser?"

The two of us find seats, and I sigh. "Have... you had opportunity to meet Zimri or Rolan? Particularly Zimri?"

"Ah. Yes, I have." His eyes darken as he nods again. "You really think they'll cause trouble?"

I shrug. "I honestly don't know. Zimri is... opinionated enough I could see him heckling Sigrun about certain things. This trip of mine... I'm going to be gone at least a month, Varel. I trust Sigrun to do her best, but I know how overwhelming the job can be, and I don't want those bastards manipulating her. So just... watch her back for me, would you?"

"I shall, Commander. Was there anything else?"

"One other thing, yes," I nod. "I'm trying to decide who to name the new guard captain, and Jowan suggested a young man named Cor. He said it seemed there was some sort of... history between Cor and you, so I figured I'd ask you what you know of him."

Varel's smiling again. "He would be an excellent choice, Commander. A bit younger than is usual for such a post, but I think he'd do a fine job. And I would be perfectly willing to assist as he settles into the role."

"If you don't mind telling... is there some kind of history between you?" I lean forward in my chair.

"You could call it that, I suppose," Varel agrees. "Following the battle of Ostagar, right after I was named seneschal, Cor's father, Darrin, was one of the louder voice speaking out about Arl Howe's..." He coughs before continuing, "misdeeds."

"I take it from that 'was' things didn't have a happy ending?" I feel the old rage bubbling up again; even if the arl's dead, the effects of his actions still linger.

"He disappeared one day. Went to get medicine for his wife when she had a fever and just... never came back. Or, at least, that's all Cor and his mother knew." Varel's face clouds with regret. "Howe had him thrown in the dungeons here for a while, until he grew tired of listening to me insist he shouldn't be treating his people like that. Damn near got myself fired and executed then and there." He sighs. "A few days after I'd pushed my hardest to get Darrin released, he was gone from the dungeons. The arl wouldn't say what happened to him, but I knew it couldn't be good."

"Bastard," I mutter through clenched teeth.

Varel nods his agreement. "Indeed. Without the medicine he'd been aiming to get, the fever left his wife blind, and Cor couldn't manage their farm by himself, hard as he tried. So I got him a job as militia, serving at the city, so he could take care of his mother." He smirks. "One of the last good deeds I managed to squeeze out of my position before Howe demoted me."

"How'd he wind up stationed at the Vigil, then?" I frown.

"Lots of loyalists deserted after news reached us of the arl's-" his smirk widens "-untimely death at the hands of an elven rebel."

"Oh, is that how it was spun out here?" I chuckle.

"Aye, ser. At least the early reports. We needed more men at the Vigil, and Cor was among those we pulled from the city."

"Ah, good, I was worried his mother had died or something."

He shakes his head. "Last I knew, she was still alive. Of course, I've not heard anything new since the darkspawn attacks."

"Well, considering Cor has seemed in comparably good spirits, I'm going to stick with the assumption she's fine," I chuckle. "Thank you for explaining to me, Seneschal. You can go about your business now; my curiosity is satisfied."

"You're welcome, Commander," he laughs.

"Oh, just to be on the safe side... how are you feeling?"

"I knew you were going to ask that..." He pauses in the doorway, now-empty bowl in hand. "My left shoulder is a mite stiff, and there are times my ribs still ache, but I suppose that's to be expected."

I laugh. "I suppose it is. Thank you for indulging me, Varel."

He bows slightly. "Always an honor, ser." And then he's gone, treading down the hallway with a barely perceptible limp.

I smile and shake my head, still marvelling at the quality of the men under me. Most of them, at least. _If this isn't proof enough of the Maker's favor, I dunno what would be,_ I think to myself as I rise from my chair. I need to find Ser Cor, enlighten him as to his promotion.

And then go pack.

_A/N: As if I needed a reason to love Varel more... XD And have I mentioned how much I ADORE Rahna and Jowan harrassing each other? The two of them, I swear... I could write pages just about their interactions. *giggle* I love them so much. And to think, I only intended for Jowan to have a cameo appearance in Aftermath. THAT plan fell apart in the best possble way. =P Annnd we're going to get Jowan in mage robes(eventually). Yes, this is the ones Miri gave him, the Reaper's Vestments. Because that man is bloody HAWT in blue. And I'm an unashamed Jowan fangirl. And stuff like that. I regret nothinggg._


	83. Last Minute Details

83. Last Minute Details

_"So.. where should we go first today?"_

_ "How about... nowhere?" Alistair replies drowsily._

_ I roll up on my side, the grass under me rustling with the movement, and swat his arm playfully. "That's not an option and you know it, you great goof."_

_ "Well, why isn't it?" he retorts, grinning up at the clear blue sky. "Don't we deserve a day to lay in the grass and just... watch the clouds while I tell you all the reasons I think you're amazing?"_

_ "Well, when you put it that way..." I chuckle, rolling further so I can rest my chin on his chest. "It's a much more tempting offer, Alistair, but we don't have time, and you know it."_

_ He winces and sighs. "I know, love." We passed the tainted, charred husks of not one, but two villages as we got farther away from Denerim. And I really hope there aren't any more between us and the Dalish. "I just... you push yourself too hard, Rahna. And I love you too much to let you run yourself into the ground." He tucks loose strands of hair back behind my ear, letting his thumb rub softly against my cheek in the process._

_ I smile at him. "And that's just one of the things I love about you; the way you're always watching out for me. But we're running out of time, Alistair. I can feel it. We don't have time to take a day off." Quite honestly, I feel like these few minutes are a luxury we can scare afford, but he's enjoying it and I don't have the heart to say so. "I promise, we'll take all the days off you want after the archdemon's dead."_

_ "Could we just... run off to Orlais, live in sin, and eat cake?" he teases, shooting me that smile that makes my insides jelly._

_ "Mmm... sounds like a plan. But for now, ser Lazybones, I think we should look for that caravan. The Chantry board posting made it sound like they'd be somewhere around here."_

_ "Oh, fine," he sighs and fixes me with a bemused look. "Y'do realize you need to get off my chest if you want me up?"_

_ "Course I do." I lean forward and kiss him before sitting back on my heels. "C'mon, we have a long day ahead of us..."_

**oOo**

The memory blindsides me as I'm packing; brought on by the fact the shirt I just tucked in my satchel is the same one I was wearing that day. It still has a neat seam in one sleeve from where Wynne had to mend it after we found that caravan-and saved it from encroahing darkspawn.

I smile wistfully at the memory. I know I was right-we didn't have time to waste watching the clouds-but it doesn't stop me from wishing I'd caved to the silent _'Five more minutes'_ in Alistair's eyes. If I'd known we weren't going to get a forever to run off to Orlais and live in sin, I would have taken just a few more minutes with him.

But I didn't know. And while it may be utterly pointless to indulge in 'might have been's and 'would have's, there are times you just can't stop yourself.

_Get a grip, Rahna,_ I scold, fingers curling around the amulet. _You have to leave soon, to be The Boss. Wallowing in memories-good as they may be-is not going to help you do that._

"Hey, Rahna?" The rap of knuckles against the wooden doorframe accompanies the tentative greeting as Anders sticks his head in the room. He frowns when he sees my eyes shiny with almost-tears. "You okay, boss?"

"Mm? I'm fine," I promise, letting go of the pendant and tucking it under my shirt collar as I blink away the dampness in my eyes. "Good memory caught me off guard is all. What's up?"

"Can I have your permission to drug Oghren?"

I shoot him an incredulous look. "What?!"

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "The idiot fancied himself 'all better'-which was not quite true-got falling over piss-drunk, and-" He grimaces. "Well, considering his is the only version of the story I have to work with, I'm not entirely sure what he _did_, but the long and short of it is that he tore open one of the worse wounds he got fighting those damn ogres. Probably the only one he had that wasn't fully healed yet. And he's so drunk he can't feel pain, so he's disinclined to listen when I tell him to take it easy and stay in bed."

"Wow." I blink. "Where's this wound he tore tore open? Is it something life-threatening?"

"Anything's life-threatening if it bleeds enough. This one's across his back; the bloody thing practically goes shoulder to shoulder. That's a tricky area to heal, even with magic, and dwarves being resistant..." Anders sighs again. "It would be a lot easier for all involved if I just knocked him out for a day or two."

"Yes, but then I pity you when he wakes up," I point out.

"I'll just tell him he drank too much," the mage shrugs, grinning. "He's done that before; that time you went to the city without me."

"Because you nearly got killed in the Blackmarsh, you idiot," I shoot back with a chuckle.

"I know, I know, boss," he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. "Just sayin'."

I roll my eyes at him. "If you're sure you can talk your way out of him killing you when he wakes up... go ahead."

"Thanks, Rahna." He doesn't move to leave, and I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Something else you wanted, Anders?" I prod, my tone teasing. "I need to finish packing."

"I just wanted to give you this." He tosses me a small box, tied shut with a red ribbon.

My eyebrow goes even higher as I tug at the ribbon. "What's this for?"

He shrugs and grins. "Do I need a reason? You're always giving us things for no reason. Maybe I just think someone needs to return the favor."

"Point," I concede, dropping the ribbon to open the box. Pounce darts from behind his master and snatches it out of midair, tumbling end over end wrapped in his new toy. I chuckle as I flip open the lid. "Anders..."

"What, don't like them?" He frowns.

"No, I do, it's just..." I look back up at him. "Earrings?"

"Yeeesss," The mage draws the word out like he doesn't see what the problem could possibly be.

"I don't have pierced ears," I point out, quirking the eyebrow at him again.

He grins. "We'll just have to fix that, then, won't we, love?"

"I don't have time today," I remind him. "I have to finish packing, and make sure Cor's going to be alright with his promotion, and go over last minute details with Sig, and-"

I get it, I get it," Anders laughs. "When you get back from playing nice to the queen, then."

"What, _you're_ going to do it?"

"You think this appeared in my ear by magic, Rahna?" he teases, tugging on the gold hoop dangling from his ear. "Besides, don't you trust me?"

I cough. "Well..."

He glares at me. "Brat."

"What is it with mages and callin' me a brat?" I huff in pretended indignation. "First Jowan, now you... Is this a conspiracy?"

"Possibly," Anders ripostes. "Or maybe you _are_ a brat."

"I thought I was a minx."

"You're both."

I roll my eyes. "Don't you have a dwarven berserker to drug?"

"Aye, aye, boss." He gives a teasing salute. "See you when you get back, Rahna."

I nod. "Bye, Anders."

**oOo**

He works fast, too; when I finish packing and go in search of my seneschal and new guard captain, I pass Oghren, snoring fit to wake the dead on one of the cots that still line a few hallways. I smile to myself, glad I'll be far away when he wakes up, though watching Anders talk his way out of a pummeling could be fun.

I find Varel and Cor in the armory, the latter clad in a new set of silverite chainmail and testing a variety of swords.

"Off to war, Captain?" I ask, impressed that Cor barely starts at my sudden arrival.

"Commander." He bows in greeting. "Var- The seneschal said if I'm going to be Guard Captain, I'm going to need better gear." He gives gleaming blade in his hand a practice swing. "Oh, I like this one..."

I chuckle and lean against a support column. "I agree with the seneschal. Aside from needing to look the part, a Guard Captain needs to be willing to lead by example, especially in combat, to inspire the men under him. That's much easier to do with confidence if you have exceptionally well-made armor."

He nods, grinning boyishly. I still have trouble believing he's almost the same age as me. "Well, said, Commander. Master Wade made this set. He's going to make more, with the silverite from the mines, but since you appointed me Guard Captain, Herren said I could have the first set."

"It suits you quite well," I smile. "As does that sword." The blade he seems to like so much is Dalish in style, curved and wicked-looking.

"It is a good sword," he agrees, staring at the silver blade, before he nods as if arriving at a decision. "I'm going to use this one. It... feels almost like it's part of me."

Varel smiles. "That's how it should be, when you find the right one. Good choice, _Captain_."

Cor's face colors slightly. "Going to take awhile t' get used to you calling me _that_..."

"You'll adjust, son, don't worry." Varel claps him on the shoulder. "Now, I believe a test of how well you handle yourself fighting in that is in order. Chain is heavier than splintmail, and you need to adjust."

"Um, Varel." I raise an eyebrow at him. "What happened to 'not doing too much'?"

"I'll only be supervising, Comander. I swear," he chuckles, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Contrary to all appearances, I do know my limits."

"That's better." I grin. "And Captain Cor?"

"Yes, Commander?" He looks at me expectantly.

"This is for you. Consider it a gift for your promotion." I hand him a runestone, the arcane symbol etched into the surface glowing faintly. "That gives you about a fifty-fifty chance to paralyze your opponent with every strike," I explain. "Ambassador Cera should be able to apply it to your new sword."

"I... Thank you, Commander." He bows in gratitude. "I'm sure it will come in handy."

"You're welcome. Now, go with Varel. He's right about needing to make adjustments for the new armor." I nudge him toward the door, following them until we reach the throne room. That's where I split off to find Sigrun.

**oOo**

She's in her room, when I finally find her, holding the snow globe from Glassric's stand and staring more at the swirling 'snow flakes' than at the minature figures inside. "Pretty accurate representation of how I feel right now," she comments, without looking up.

"Sorry, Sig," I mutter. "I know you're not happy with this arrangement-"

"It's for the best, Commander," she cuts my off, looking up with a wry smile and patting the bed next to her in a silent invitation. "I'm just being a wimp about it."

"Hey, considering some of the things I had to deal with, I hardly think _wimp_ is fair," I protest as I join her.

"Not helping." She sets the snow globe down on the end table. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to touch on a few last minute things. We're setting out pretty early tomorrow-providing I can get Jowan out of bed-so I want to make sure you have a decent handle on things now. You know about the... situation with Oghren?"

She giggles. "Yep. I wouldn't miss Anders talking him down for anything. That alone almost makes bein' left in charge worth it."

I laugh. "Good. And Varel and Cor will be able to help with anything that's not strictly Warden-related."

She bites her lip. "I do have one question, Commander..."

"Yeah?"

"What if... what if someone shows up and wants to join the Wardens? Like Rolan?"

I sigh. My feelings about our newest recruit aside, we aren't exactly scrambling for new Wardens at the moment. "Inform them they'll be welcome if they prove to be what we're looking for, then let them stay here. Watch them duel, see how they handle losing _and_ winning. But no one undergoes the Joining until I've had a chance to talk to them, alright? That should take a burden off your shoulders. It can be on my head if anyone dies, then."

She sighs in relief. "I like that plan. It's not like I'm expecting anyone to show up, but we weren't expecting Rolan, either."

"I understand." Considering I still have private misgivings about having two very templar minded-Wardens in such proximity to two mages, I can't blame her for wanting an out. "So, ready to be in charge?"

Sigrun makes a face. "If I have to... Ancestors, I guess so."

"Good." I give her a comforting smile. "You'll do fine, Sig. I'm sure you will."

"Hrmph," she grunts. "I'm glad one of us is..."

**oOo**

I'm more than ready to leave today, just to get this over with, but since I promised Jowan and Nate they'd have until tomorrow, I make myself wait. It's not easy; curiosity over what Anora could possibly have to discuss with me is eating me alive, and I want so desperately to be able to visit my family. I haven't seen them in almost a year. _A year._ I want to hug my father, talk with Shianni, see if Soris has had any luck finding Valora.

But I make myself be patient. It _is_ a virtue after all, even if it's not my favorite...

_A/N: And we're off on a new adventure! Sort of... I don't have anything crazy planned for between Amaranthine and Denerim, but who knows what Anora wants to talk to Rahna about. :3 And the scene with Varel and Cor was fun to write. Probably because I love Varel. Man, I can't wait to get them to Denerim. I have __**plans**__. *rubs hands together fiendishly* None of them __**too**__ evil. I think. _


	84. Think Happy Thoughts

84. Think Happy Thoughts

We're a good hour later leaving than I wanted, a fact I blame almost entirely on Jowan. I had more trouble getting him to wake up than I ever have before. He's sheepish and apologetic when he finally drags himself out of bed, but the damage is already done. I know it's not _that_ big a deal; Anora knows it's going to take a while to travel from Amaranthine to Denerim on foot-almost a week, unless we push hard-but the sky was threatening rain last night, so I want to get as much distance covered as possible in case we have to stop early.

I share my concern about the weather with Nathaniel, and he casts a glance at the dull grey sky before shrugging. "We won't have to worry about that until tonight, Commander. Possibly not until tomorrow morning."

I raise an eyebrow dubiously. "You can tell that from a quick glance at the clouds?"

He chuckles at my skepticism. "It takes a lot of practice. Those clouds aren't dark enough to be present threat. Trust me."

"Oh, I do. It's the weather I don't trust," I mutter. Today's rather cooler than it's been recently, and it would just figure if it started to pour and we had to walk in the rain. Though I get the sense Nathaniel either wouldn't mind or would downright enjoy it, I'd rather avoid it, if at all possible.

"C'mon, Rahna, I thought worrying was my job," Jowan teases, trying to hide a yawn and only partially succeeding.

"I wasn't sure you'd be awake enough to do it properly," I shoot back with a grin. "Considering I practically had to drag you out of bed by your hair this morning..."

"Okay, ouch," he laughs. "But I've already apologized for that, and you _know_ I'm not an early riser."

"Well, yeah..." I concede reluctantly. "But I also warned you I wanted to leave early, so you could've gone to bed earlier than usual."

Something dark flickers in his eyes when I point that out, but he nods. "True."

"What?"

"Whaddya mean, what? I was agreeing with you."

I shoot him my best _I'm onto you_ look, fighting back a smile as Nathaniel quickens his pace to pull ahead and sort of give us privacy. "You looked almost like you wanted to _disagree_ for a second there."

Jowan sighs and rakes one hand through his hair. "It's nothing, Rahna. I just... had a bad dream last night, and I think even if I'd gone to bed earlier I would've ended up with the same amount of sleep. Meaning not much."

Knowing what I know about his past, I think I know what this bad dream was about, but I can see in his eyes he _**really**_ doesn't want to talk about it. So I make myself drop it. "Is that what's to blame for the excessively large dark circles under your eyes?" I ask instead.

The barest hint of a grateful smile tugs at his lips as he nods. "Mm-hm."

"You want me to leave you out of the watch rotation tonight? Nate and I could probably handle it on our own."

He hesitates a minute before answering, and I can see pride and common sense warring in his eyes. He finally nods, almost reluctantly. "Just for tonight, that would probably be a good idea."

"Then that's what we'll do. Maker knows you're hard enough to wake up in the morning as it is..."

Jowan rolls his eyes at that, but knows a retort would only encourage me, so we settle into a comfortable silence as we walk, each occupied with our own thoughts.

**oOo**

By the time we stop to make camp for the night, I could swear I've seen a few flashes of lightning in the looming clouds, and I have a very bad feeling with regards to the weather tomorrow. _Please don't let it rain. Please, please, __**please**_, I beg silently. _At least, not during the day... If it has to rain, let it be tonight..._ I have many reasons for this particular wish; the primary one being I absolutely _hate_ walking in the rain. Mud is slippery, wet clothes tend to chafe, I get grumpy... I just really don't want to deal with that tomorrow.

When we finish setting up and sit down to eat, it doesn't take long before I notice Jowan's listlessly playing with his food more than eating it. I reach over and playfully tweak his ponytail. "Nate's a much better cook than I am, I swear."

He smiles. "That's not _that_ hard..."

"Hey!" I protest, lightly punching his arm.

"Rahna, first of all, you walked yourself into that one, and second, you've said as much before yourself," he reminds me.

I sigh. "I hate it when you're right... Now would you _eat_? Walking on an empty stomach's less than no fun."

"Oh, I know _that_, trust me," he mutters, and I wince.

"Don't go there. Don't." I'm not sure if I'm warning or pleading.

His eyes drop to the long scar on his forearm, one of the few that aren't from self-inflicted wounds, and his reply is so quiet I barely catch it. "Kind of hard not to, Rahna."

Maker, will I ever learn to sodding _think_ before I open my bloody mouth? "Still, don't," I whisper. "That's the past, and we have enough to worry about in the present without dragging the past into the picture, too."

"I know..." His voice trails off and he sighs. "It's just easier to do when I'm tired."

"Then go to bed. If you're not going to eat, for whatever reason, just get to sleep. 'Cause I _hate_ it when you do this to yourself." _Even if I'm the one who got your thoughts headed in that direction... Maker, I'm an idiot._

"That... might actually be a good idea," Jowan concedes, handing me his bowl as he stands and heads for his tent. I barely wait until he's out of sight to pour the contents of his bowl into my almost empty one.

Nathaniel chuckles. "I saw that, Rahna."

I make a face at him. "Hey, I'm hungry, and if he's not gonna eat it, it's a shame to let it go to waste."

He's still smiling at me as he nods. "Very true."

I toss a smirk at him. "Especially your cooking. Mine we could just dump it in the woods and no one would miss it."

"...If you say so, Commander." He's trying to avoid saying something that will get him in trouble, I can tell. But we're friends, so I let it slide. "Is... Is he going to be alright?" He nods toward the tent where Jowan's probably already asleep.

I nod. "Mm-hm. He just gets angsty when he's tired, and me not watchin' what I said couldn't have helped much. And he has a past that... haunts him more than most people's would," I explain, trying to say enough to fill in the blanks without saying too much. It's _Jowan's_ past, not mine, after all. And he and I both want it as far behind him as it can get.

Nathaniel nods. "I see. Do you want first watch or shall I take it?"

"I'll do it," I reply. "I'm not tired at all; I'd just stare at the wall of my tent if I went to bed now."

He chuckles. "Very well, Rahna. You do realize this means you get to clean up from dinner?"

Drat. I forgot that part. I just shrug. "You made it, it's only fair that I clean up." It's not like it'll be that hard; we're right near a stream, and there's no leftover food. So I just need to wash out the small cooking pot and our bowls, which shouldn't take long.

And it doesn't. Ten minutes, at the most, before I'm packing things away and resuming my seat on a log to watch the surroundings for any threats. It's not long before my thoughts start to drift.

_What could Anora possibly want to talk to me about?_ It's been bugging me since I sent my reply to her invitation. She and I see eye to eye on next to nothing. We agreed Howe was a villianous bastard who deserved to die, but that's about it. I keep wracking my brain for potential matters that could be important enough to warrant her needing to talk to me. All I can come up with is if there's trouble-riots and the like-in the Alienage, she might think the elves would listen to me since I used to live there, and so is planning to ask for my help with something like that. That would be tricky ground and a headache beyond compare, considering my father and cousins still live there. _I __**really**__ hope that's not it..._

I really need to stop doing this to myself; my curiosity is going to drive me insane someday. I should be thinking happy thoughts. _The darkspawn are gone from Amaranthine. I have a whole slew of new friends. Jowan agreed to come with me on this trip..._ I'm jolted out of my "happy thoughts" by a faint rustle in the grass nearby, so faint it barely registers. My head snaps up from where it rests on my half-curled fist and I scan for the cause of the noise.

It takes a few minutes to locate the intruder, a sleek, silvery wolf who stares at me with piercing golden eyes. It sits down just outside the fringes of the nearby woods, posture straight enough to make a noblewoman green with envy, bony yet still somehow beautiful. The two of us stare at each other for a full minute, me groping for a hefty branch to swing at it if it gets any closer, and the wolf sitting perfectly still, as if testing my nerve.

I finally still when my fingers close around a thick branch, ready in case the wolf gets closer, but not wanting to provoke it. It's such a beautiful creature, I'd hate to have to hurt or kill it. But it doesn't move, just sits and stares at me for a few more minutes before leaving, moving in a slow, sinuously graceful walk that all but screams it knows I won't do anything to it.

And I don't. I watch it disappear back into the woods, my head cocked in confusion. I've never seen a wolf act that way before. It didn't howl or look like it was hunting or anything. This incident, however, gives me something else to think about and keeps my mind off wondering what Anora wants with me for the rest of my watch.

**oOo**

I get my wish: the only rain we really get is a teensy bit of drizzle very early in the morning, right as I'm waking Nathaniel for his second turn on watch. I feel just a little guilty about the timing as I curl up in my bedroll, but he assures me later that it only drizzled for about ten minutes, and he doesn't mind rain so much.

While part of me is glad we're not walking in the rain-that being my pentultimate description of misery-the sky still glowers ominously above us, and I can't help but feel it's going to unleash something horrible when we least expect it.

To distract myself from worrying about it, I decide to start peppering Nathaniel with those questions about court etiquette that are part of my reason for bringing him.

He sighs when I begin my volley. "You do remember it's been almost a _decade_ since the last time I attended anything of importance in any court, let alone a royal wedding, right, Rahna?"

I nod. "Uh-huh. I figure the manners can't have changed that much. And I know some things are a bit more hands-on-like table manners- and..." I stop dead in my tracks as the words trail off.

"Rahna!" Jowan yelps, having to stop rather abruptly himself to avoid running into me. "Don't do that," he mutters.

"Sorry." I look up at Nathaniel. "I'm gonna have to learn how to dance, aren't I?"

He just smiles. "Unless you want to spend the entirety of the wedding reception standing against the wall and seeming horribly unsociable... yes."

I sigh in despair, huffing loose wisps of hair out of my eyes. "Dammit."

Nathaniel chuckles. "It won't be that bad, Commander. Most Fereldan dances are almost absurdly simple, and given whose daughter the queen is, I very much doubt there will be a need to learn any Orlesian ones," he points out with a smirk.

I giggle. The idea of Loghain Mac Tir's daughter allowing Orlesian dances at her wedding would be so incredibly ironic, I'd probably laugh myself to death if it actually happened. "And Hayden's father was part of the rebellion, too, so I think I'm very much safe. But we can worry about the dancing-" I wrinkle my nose "-when we get to Denerim. For now, I'm sure there's lots of various etiquette rules you could tell me about..."

He sighs again and nods. "As you wish." I can practically see the wheels in his head turning as he recalls things he was taught, but hasn't needed in at least eight years. "Anything in particular you want to know most?"

I shake my head and grin at him. "Whatever comes to mind is fine, Nate." I'm no noble or anything, but I know when you don't use a skill for a long time, it can get rusty. And knowledge of proper "refined" manners can't possibly be an exception.

**oOo**

I spend almost the entire day's walk getting filled in on "proper court etiquette" that Nathaniel thinks will be relavent. He admits he's not telling me everything he knows, "But some of this I very much doubt you'll need."

"You wind up being wrong, and I'll send you on a patrol with Sigrun," I threatened teasingly. I trust him enough to take his word for it, but there has to be _some_ consequences if he turns out to be wrong. Sending him on a patrol with the chatty dwarf who never, ever gets the message that he just wants _silence_ is the best thing I can come up with.

Nathaniel smiles wryly. "Warning noted."

It gets dark early, thanks in no small part to the steadily darkening clouds, so we eat and figure out watch duty relatively quickly.

"I'll go first, since you two let me out of it last night," Jowan offers.

"I think I'll take you up on that," I nod, smirking at him. "More because you're bloody impossible to wake up than because you owe us anything." I reach to tug on his ponytail, but he's expecting it and bats my hand away. "Ooh, I think you know me too well..." I giggle.

He gives a short, wry laugh. "Prob'ly do. Who's second watch?"

"Me. No funny business when you wake me up, or so help me I'll... I'll lock you in the same room as Zimri when we get back."

He shoots me a dirty-but slightly alarmed-look. "You wouldn't."

"You think?" I smirk. "You're free to test your luck of course..."

He sighs. "Maker, Rahna, you're absolutely incorrigable."

"Yep," I concur cheerfully, sneaking a quick tug on his ponytail before I turn in for the night.

_A/N: Rahna's so fun when she's bratty. :3 And Jowan's so fun when he gives it right back to her. I'm fairly sure by this point, Nathaniel is definitely wondering what he's gotten himself into. Oh, and I know I said a few chapters back I was going to end this and go to the sequel soon. I was originally intending to chop out the road trip, have that be in the gap between stories, like I did between Aftermath and this, but I got some good ideas for things that can happen on this trip, and for a better transition point, so scratch that original plan. ;)_


	85. Meant to Be

85. Meant to Be

The clouds finally unleash the storm I've been dreading at roughly four in the morning, its arrival heralded by an absolutely huge crack of lightning and thunder so close together they seem to come as one. If that wasn't enough to wake me up, the torrential downpour that collapses one end of my tent sure is. I shoot back to consciousness-out of a _very_ good dream-with a yelp, and curse loudly as the slipped canvas of my tent leaves me vulnerable to the torrents of water gushing from the sky. It doesn't even take a full minute for me to come to my senses and drag my bedroll toward the still-standing end of my tent, but that's time enough for both it and me to get drenched.

_Very funny,_ I grumble mentally, envisioning the Maker sitting up there somewhere laughing His head off at me. _It couldn't have waited until tomorrow? It had to be today, right now?!_ I sigh, raking soaked tendrils of hair back out of my eyes. _Please let it stop by the time we have to be moving on. Please, please, please..._ I distract myself from my miserable state by idly wondering if Jowan's sleeping through this. He probably is. And Nathaniel's on watch right now... _He's_ probably enjoying this.

I sigh, wrap myself in the driest of my blankets, and curl up in the small section of my tent that's not too wet to try and get back to sleep.

**oOo **

Not only do I fail miserably at that, the rain keeps up, almost as hard as when it started, until well past when it would normally get light. The one small comfort is that the weather is still warm enough most days that it's not cold rain.

But when you're tired and soaked to the skin, you don't really care about little details like that, and I can feel 'grumpy' settling in as my mood even before Jowan drags himself out of bed. I try valiantly to fight it off, which leads to a much quieter me during breakfast than is normal.

"Are you feeling alright, Rahna?" Nathaniel asks as he moves to clean up from the meal.

"Just wet and tired and trying desperately not to be a grouch about it," I reply, forcing a smile as I stand and dart a despairing glance at my forlorn-looking tent.

"Ah." He nods in understanding.

"I can try to help you take care of that," Jowan offers, nodding toward my tent.

"I think I'll take you up on that," I chuckle ruefully, shooting him a grateful smile. Canvas is difficult enough when it's dry. _Wet_ canvas is almost unmanagable.

"It's... a good thing the whole tent didn't fall over," Jowan points out when he sees me starting to slide towards grumpy again.

"This is true," I concede. "If it had, I would've been cursing loud enough to wake _you_."

He laughs. "Rahna, if the thunder didn't do it, I don't think you could either."

_I knew it_. "I dunno, I can be pretty loud when I wanna be..."

"Oh, I'm not doubting _that_," he mutters.

"Shut _up_!" I punch his arm, but can't help smiling.

He just smirks at me. "I'll start with the tent, why don't you see what can be done with your bedroll and things."

"Sounds like a plan..." I agree, and we get to work. We haven't been at it long when I can't stand the silence any longer. "Collapsing tents, torrential downpour... Y'know, this is _not_ how I thought I'd be spending my birthday," I confess with a wry laugh as I wring out my drenched bedroll, watching the narrow rivulet of water trickle toward the stream.

Jowan glances up, shooting me an incredulous look. "Today's your birthday? And you weren't going to say _anything_? _**Honestly**_, Rahna..."

I shrug, nudging a damp lock of hair back behind my ear. To be honest, I stopped caring about birthdays when I had the last one smack in the middle of the Deep Roads, not two days after fighting the broodmother that had been Laryn. Part of me doesn't even know why I mentioned _that_, of all the things I could've chosen to talk about. "We're traveling, Jowan. There's just you, me, and Nathaniel. It's not like we could do anything."

He mutters something under his breath and impulsively snaps off a small clump of Andraste's Grace, already bruised and bent from the blasted storm. He presents it to me with a teasing mock bow. "Happy birthday, _Commander_."

The urge to push him into the mud for that damned cheeky grin-not to mention calling me 'Commander'-evaporates as I'm blindsided by the memory of the last time a man gave me a flower and I'm suddenly struggling to _breathe_. _Honestly, Rahna. I'm sure he doesn't mean it like __**that**__..._ I'm still flustered and blushing, I'm sure, as I sketch a courtly mock bow of my own. "Thank you, ser mage." I tuck the limp blossom behind my ear and hug him. "I shall treasure it always." I pause. "Or at least until it wilts..."

He just laughs.

**oOo**

Rahna was hard to fluster, she herself owned to that readily enough. Jowan would have described it as more _next to impossible_ than just _hard_and while it was one of his favorite things about her, he couldn't help the feeling of triumph that welled up inside him when it took her a very obvious pause to come up with light-hearted reply. The mere fact she didn't take him to task for calling her 'Commander' was all the proof the mage needed that he'd thrown her off-balance with the impromptu gift.

That, more than anything, was what made him laugh. "I'm glad you like it so much."

She rolled her eyes. "Get back to work. I wanna cover as much ground as possible while the weather holds at somewhat decent."

**oOo**

"So, why, exactly, were you going to let your birthday pass without saying a word?" We've been walking for almost half an hour when Jowan finally asks, but I know he's been wondering since he found out.

"Yes, do tell, Rahna," Nathaniel adds, raising an eyebrow at me in mild censure.

I sigh and roll my eyes at both of them. "First of all, how much money d'you think elves living in an Alienage have to spend on something so frivolous as birthday presents? When I was growing up, the best I got was maybe everyone scraping together enough money to buy a hot pastry for a special treat, and even that didn't always happen. There were occasionally homemade gifts, but not often. And the one birthday I had in the Wardens, we were in the Deep Roads, fresh off killing a broodmother. None of us were really in a frame of mind to celebrate." I feel a slight blush heat my face but still give a devilish smirk as I add, "I _did _tell Alistair, and he did what he could to make the night... _memorable_."

Jowan coughs. "I did _**not**_ need to know that part, Rahna."

"Hey, I can always go into more detail if you w-"

"_**No!**_" He actually reaches over and covers my mouth with one hand. "Maker, don't you dare."

I push his hand away and grin cheekily at him. "Fine, fine. We can think about something else to talk about then..." I glance at Nathaniel. "Like Vi. We could always talk about her..."

He shakes his head. "No."

"Who's Vi?" Jowan asks.

"Oh, c'mon, Nate," I wheedle.

"Rahna, _no_. Besides, there's nothing new to talk about."

"Who's Vi?" Jowan repeats, sounding slightly exasperated about being ignored.

Since Nathaniel's dead set on not talking about his not-quite-girlfriend, I heave a sigh and turn to the mage. "Vi's his sister's best friend, who is very much sweet on him," I explain. "When we went to help with the whole rebuilding thing, it became quite obvious he likes her, too. But since he's a Warden and she's not, he's not sure if pursuing a relationship would be a good idea."

"Mmm." Jowan nods.

"I just said I wanted to think about it a bit more, Rahna," Nathaniel reminds me.

"And talk to her about it," I prod.

He nods. "That would require me being able to visit the city."

"...And your commander is dragging you to Denerim instead," I finish for him with a wince. "Sorry 'bout that."

He shrugs. "If this is meant to be, I'm sure it will be, and if not... well, maybe it's better ended sooner rather than later."

"You, Nathaniel Howe, are one of the most damned pessimistic individuals I have met in my life," I inform him, grinning nonetheless.

"I thought that was me," Jowan mutters under his breath, tweaking one of my pigtails.

"I did say 'one of'," I point out, chuckling as I elbow him lightly in the ribs. "You're another of the most pessimitic people I've ever met."

"I prefer _realistic_," Nathaniel comments, looking suspiciously like he's fighting a smile at mine and Jowan's antics.

I roll my eyes. "_I _manage to be realistic without being cynical all the time, Nate. And so does Sigrun."

"I..." he sighs. "I concede the point."

I smirk. "Now, getting back to Vi... I really am sorry if you comin' with me is gonna mess up your... whatever-you-wanna-call-it."

"I'm sure she'll be busy enough getting her life back in some kind of order she won't miss me_ that _much." He chuckles. "And you need me, remember? We can't have the Warden-Commander commiting social faux pas at the royal wedding. Besides-" he smirks "-I'm rather curious how you'll look in a _dress_."

For the second time today, I find myself momentarily speechless.

**oOo**

The rest of our journey is remarkably uneventful. Well, aside from the fact it drizzles a couple more days. Oh, and the bandits that attempt to rob us about a day and a half out from Denerim.

These fellows are either smarter or more easily intimdated than most bandits I've encountered, however. Because even as I sigh in exasperation at the rising stupidity of the criminal class, Jowan almost casually flicks his fingers and cradles the resulting flame in his palm. To a man, the bandits slink off, cursing under their breath and trying not to look like they're running away, when that's exactly what they're doing.

Nathaniel snorts a wry laugh. "Those may be the most intelligent thieves we've encountered yet," he says as we watch the gang flee.

"That or the most easily frightened," I chuckle. "But you're probably right." I turn to smirk at Jowan. "I knew there was a reason I liked having you around."

He shrugs and curls his hand into a fist, snuffing out the dancing flame. "Just tryin' to pull my weight."

"Well, you're definitely doing _that_..." I mutter. "C'mon, we can reach Denerim tomorrow if we push it a bit. And I don't know about you two, but I'd _really_ like to sleep in a bed as soon as possible."

"Softie," Jowan teases.

I punch him in the arm.

**oOo**

It's drizzling when we finally make it to the city, just enough to get our hair and clothes damp, but not enough to be worth digging out our cloaks for protection.

"I s'ppose the palace should be our first stop..." I sigh reluctantly, glancing at the distant hazy sillhouette of the building.

"You sound like there's somewhere else you'd rather go first," Jowan comments, dragging his fingers through his hair to peel back the small wisps that have escaped his ponytail and been plastered to his forehead by the drizzle.

"Alienage," I remind him.

"Right. Your family still lives there. Can't really blame you for wanting to see them."

"But Anora probably has spies who'll tell her if I do anything before letting her know I'm here," I mutter, not caring if I sound paranoid. It's most likely true. "So we'll start with her, and I'll visit my family later. That way you two don't have to come with me unless you want to."

Part of me hates being so damned practical about it; I haven't seen my family in almost a year, and I miss them terribly. But considering the general view of humans in our alienage, and especially considering Jowan's-sort of-a blood mage, I don't wanna force anything. After Caladrius, I have a feeling it'll take some fast talking to explain why I'm such very good friends with a man who's used the same type of magic. _It's honestly probably better if I go alone the first time_, I admit to myself, forcing my feet to head toward the royal palace. _To explain. Just in case_. "C'mon, let's go."

_A/N: As if there wasn't enough cute 'n' fluffy in the last chapter... XD Sorry for sort of glazing over the majority of the travel, but it would have been boring, and this is getting long enough without filler type help. XD So now we're in Denerim, Rahna can visit her family, we can find out what Anora wants, and get on with the rest of Rahna's court etiquette lessons(because we all know she and Nate were SO looking forward to resuming those xDDD). And hopefully soon, we'll get to Jowan in those mage robes(I may seriously have to commission art of that from someone, because he looks so damn good in them in-game-and that's __**without**__ the ponytail. :P)._


	86. Surprising Developments

86. Surprising Developments

I'm pleasantly surprised when the guards at the palace gate don't give us any trouble. Part of me was afraid they would. But no sooner have I told them my name and that I'm here to see the queen then one of the men snapas his fingers to summon a page to show us in.

"The queen must be more anxious to see you than she let on in her invitation," Nathaniel mutters to me as we follow the boy through the palace halls.

"Apparently," I mutter back. Part of me is frantically wishing for a moment to get just a _tad_ more presentable. Anora manages to look regal no matter the circumstances, and while none of us look bad-especially given that we're fresh off nearly a week's travel, I'm sure we'll all look downright _dingy_ compared to the queen.

_But that would be the case __**anyway**__, _the rest of me argues. _It's all about your attitude, so just... don't apologize for being who you are-any of you-and you'll at least hold your own._ I still can't help giving my damp tunic a tug to get some of the wrinkles out as we approach the throne room.

Given her love for power and control over any given situation, I have to admit surprise that Anora isn't sitting on the raised throne when we enter. Instead, the slender blonde woman is waiting in the great open space that was full of milling nobility and a few friends the last time I was here.

"It is good to see you, Commander," Anora greets me, with something approaching the faint ghost of a smile. She doesn't look like she's barely tolerating my presence, and to my surprise, this time I don't have to forcefully swallow bile as I return her greeting.

_Well, that's a...surprising development..._ "Likewise, Your Majesty." I bow in respect-Wardens will be cordial to monarchs, even if we aren't bound by their laws. "Your invitation made it sound like this _other matter_ you wanted to discuss with me was rather important."

She nods gracefully. "In a sense, it is, Commander. Though not so much so that I cannot allow you and your comrades-" I think I detect the slightest twitch to her eyebrow as her gaze slides over Nathaniel "-a chance to rest and perhaps freshen up a bit before we talk."

I bow again, this time in gratitude. "It's deeply appreciated, Your Majesty."

"However, Commander, before you retire... might I get introductions to your fellow Wardens?" One pale blonde brow arches as if in reproach, and I fight the urge to smack myself for the gaffe.

"Of course, Your Majesty, I apologize," I reply. _Might as well get all this over with..._ I gesture to each of the men as I introduce them. "This is Jowan... and Nathaniel."

This time I'd _swear_ I saw her eyebow arc higher, but Anora simply nods in greeting. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, gentlemen."

I can almost _feel_ Jowan getting nervous-last time he was here was when Loghain 'liberated' him from the templars, after all-but his voice doesn't betray him in the slightest as he lowers his head and mumbles a polite "Likewise, Your Majesty," along with Nathaniel.

"Well, I'm sure you're tired, so we can speak more later," Anora comments. "Cier can show you to your rooms." She nods to a young, redheaded elven servant standing against the wall, and the freckle-faced boy jolts to attention at the sound of his name. He leads the way through one set of double doors, and I feel a small, almost nostalgic smile tug at my lips as I follow. This is the door I entered through for Anora's celebration to mark the end of the Blight.

_Oh, how I've changed since then..._ I think with a wry internal laugh. It almost bubbles into an actual laugh when we head in the general direction of my room from back then.

However, Cier leads us past the solid wooden door, further into this wing of the palace, until we come to a pair of doors almost as large as the ones leading to the throne room.

"The queen set aside one of the best suites for you, Wardens," Cier explains as he hauls open the door. "She figured you would all want to be near each other."

"Well, I do get along with these two alright," I chuckle, nudging Jowan with my elbow. He pokes me in the ribs and I yelp. "_Jowan!_ Was there lightning in that?!"

"I have no ide what you're talking about, Rahna," he replies innocently.

"Sodding _mage_," I huff, already plotting my revenge.

"Could you two _please_ not act like children while we're here?" Nathaniel hisses in an undertone as Cier points out various features of the palatial suite.

"What? _Us_?" I glance at Jowan and inject a healthy level of mock innocence into my voice. "We'll be on our _best_ behavior, don't worry, Nate."

"Oh, Maker..." he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm doomed."

"...I'll be seeing to _your_ needs, sers, but I believe Queen Anora has a lady in waiting in mind for you, Commander."

I yank my attention reluctantly off our bantering and focus on the green-eyed servant. "That sounds fine, Cier, thank you."

He nods shyly. "I'll let you get settled in, then. I'll check back later to see if you need anything." He slips out the door and down the hall.

Now that I'm actually looking, this set of rooms is rather nice; a large common area with several couches and end tables, the latter burdened with large dishes of fruit. At the far end of the room, three doorways lead to the bedchambers.

"Okay, I want the corner room," I state, already moving towards it. "More windows."

"Thus less claustropohobic?" Nathaniel asks.

"Damn, do you know me well," I chuckle sheepishly. "Yes."

"I didn't know it was _that_ bad," Jowan mutters. "You managed just fine with only one window when we were in Weisshaupt."

"Well, it never hurts to play it safe..." I duck into the room. "You two can argue over the others," I tease, before closing the door behind me.

**oOo**

I've only just kicked off my boots and started putting my things away when someone knocks on the door.

"Who is it?" I call out, busy getting my clothes squared away in the carving-adorned armoire that stands in the corner.

"'S Jowan."

"You can come in," I toss over my shoulder, and hear the door open and close as I lean into the armoire on tiptoes to reach a shelf. "What's up?"

I hear the frame of my-bloody huge-bed creak as he sits on the edge. "I, um, was wondering about something..."

"For the Maker's sake, spit it out already," I tease, turning to grin at him.

He rolls his eyes at me in response. "When d'you think I should start wearing the, um, the mage robes?"

I shrug as I cross the room to join him, plopping down on the bed. "I dunno, I was figuring you'd only need them for the really important thing; like the wedding or any meetings I might drag you to."

"Ha-ha, very funny. But I'm serious, Rahna. That sounded like a good plan to me at first, but now I can't help but think the Chantry might see me not _always_ wearing them as trying to conceal the fact that I'm a mage." He sighs.

"But you're not," I protest, frowning at the thought. "You're just more comfortable dressed like this." I tug on the sleeve of his shirt.

"We know that, but I don't think they'd believe us if we told them," he points out. "This being easier to travel in, maybe. But one thing I've learned about the Chantry is that they will _always_ assume the worst about mages. Occupational hazard and all that. So I was thinking... maybe I... should start wearing them sooner."

"What, you mean like now?" I shoot him a disbelieving look. "I thought you hated the idea of wearing robes."

"I _do_," he grumbles, glaring at the floor. "That's why I wanted to ask you; I was hoping you'd have a good reason in mind to put it off."

I think for a minute. "Umm... I got nothing else," I finally admit.

"Damn." One of my eyebrows arches at the curse; Jowan almost _never _swears. He sighs. "Fine."

"Oh, c'mon, sourpuss," I cajole, tugging his ponytail. "I know deep down you really wanna wear 'em and you're just putting on a show."

"That is _so_ not true!" he protests, but he's half-smiling as he pushes my shoulder hard enough to set me sprawling across the bed. "It's just better safe than sorry, and you _know it_."

I laugh and shoot him a grin that screams _Not Buying It_. "Mm-hm. Sure it is." I shove his shoulder with my foot and knock him over, too.

However, he's nearer the edge than I was, so my retaliation has him yelping "_Rahna!_" and instinctively grabbing my ankle in an attempt to not fall off the bed. It's successful, but in the process, his thumb drags across the bottom of my foot, making my toes curl and me bite my lip to keep from squealing.

He still notices. "Maker's breath, you too?"

"M-Me, too, what?" I stammer, mentally swearing up a storm.

Jowan mirrors my earlier _Not Buying It_ look and more deliberately runs his fingers from my heel up toward my toes. "Ticklish?"

"Maker, Jowan, _stoppit!_" I shriek, fighting back a laugh. I yank my foot back, sitting up and tucking both feet safely under me, blushing furiously all the while.

"How is it I've known you so long and _never_ found out you were ticklish?" Jowan demands, grinning at me.

"Because it's only the bottoms of my feet, and I'm very good at keeping that a secret," I shoot back with a rueful smile. "Sod, I don't even think Zevran knows. Alistair _did_, my cousins do... but other than that, you're probably it. So now you owe me some deep, dark secret in return."

"I do, huh?" He quirks a brow at me. "I think you know all mine already, actually."

"Pssh, yeah, right." I playfully nudge his shoulder. "I'm sure there's at least _one_ you haven't shared with me yet."

And then the look he's giving me sinks in.

"You really... I seriously _do_?" My eyes have probably doubled in size by this point. "Oookayyy... thank you for trusting me?" It comes out more as a question than a statement, but Jowan chuckles.

"You're welcome, Rahna," he simply replies, reluctantly pushing off the bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go change..."

"Of course, ser mage," I tease, and he shoots me a dirty look before leaving the room. I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, resolving that the rest of my unpacking can wait for later.

**oOo**

This bed is so incredibly comfortable, I don't want to get up. Ever. _C'mon, Rahna... You've been staring at the ceiling long enough. Time to finish unpacking. _

_ No. I don't wanna._ I stretch against the soft material of the bedspread, absently linking my fingers and cracking my knuckles over my head as I try to convince myself to stop being lazy.

_You wanted to visit your family, remember? How're you gonna do that if you won't get out of the sodding bed?_ I huff out a sigh. My body just does not want to move.

Fortunately, I'm saved by another knock on the door, this one far quieter and more timid than Jowan's. Half of my mind muttering complaints and the other sighing in relief, I roll off the bed and cross to open the door.

"Who're you?" I practically demand of the bony brunette standing on the other side when I open it. I shake my head. "'M sorry. That was harsher than I meant for it to sound..."

"It's alright, m'lady," she replies, smiling and dropping a hasty-yet still perfect-curtsy. "My name's Imara. The queen tasked me with bein' your lady in waitin' while you're here. I just wanted t' see if you needed anything."

"Right now?" I chuckle. "Just the willpower to finish unpacking before I go running off to visit my family."

"You're goin' t' visit them _now_, m'lady?" Imara purses her lips in concern. "Assumin' your visits with your family take as long as mine would... You'd be returnin' after dark. You sure that's safe?"

I smile. "Thank you for your concern, Imara, but I'm fairly certain I'll be fine."

"Oh, I didn't mean t' sound like I don't think you can handle yourself, Warden," she hastily assures me, biting her lip in consternation. "It's just... well, the closer to the Alienage you get, the worse thing are after dark."

One of my eyebrows quirks as I really look at her. Under the prettily embroidered green dress, she's little more than skin and bones, and I wonder how close to the Alienage she must've lived. "Imara, how long have you been working at the palace?"

Gently as I try to ask, she still looks thrown off-balance by the subject change. "Al-Almost a year. Barely long enough to finish my trainin' and put some meat on m' bones."

_**That's**__ 'meat on your bones'?!_ "I see. You used to live in that part of town, didn't you?"

She nods. "That I did. Not a stone's throw from the Alienage. The criminal types seem t' have a fondness for those alleyways."

"Don't I know it," I chuckle ruefully. "I promise to be careful. But I haven't seen my family in almost a year. Knowing they're _right there_ and waiting until tomorrow to visit... I don't see it happening."

"Very well." There's still a bit of worry in her eyes, but she seems to accept that I'm not getting talked out of this. "If you'd like, I can finish putting away your things so you can leave now," she offers, brushing back her sideswept bangs as they drift into her eyes.

I pause for a moment, weighing how much unpacking I have left and how badly I want to see my father. _It __**would**__ be easier for a human to reach those higher shelves... and there's nothing but a few shirts and such left in my pack..._ "That would be wonderful, Imara, thank you," I finally agree, reaching for my boots even as I speak.

She smiles and bobs another curtsy. "It's my pleasure, m'lady."

I return her smile before ducking out the door and heading for the streets. Hopefully I can find my way out of here without help.

_A/N: I have no idea why Rahna and Jowan seem to act like a couple of kids around each other now, I really don't. XD Teasing/tickling/lightning-infused pokes to the ribs(yes, he did) are becoming an all too common occurence with them. I think Nathaniel is going to have a horrible headache the whole time they're in Denerim if those two don't start behaving themselves. Anyway, next chapter will probably (finally) be Rahna's visit with her family. Hurrah! I need to write some Shianni, because I love her. :p_


	87. Slightly Less Than Perfect

87. Slightly Less Than Perfect

I have to admit, I'm impressed by how much of the city's been repaired following the final battle. Granted, there's still a lot to do, but it hasn't even been quite a year yet. The rubble's all been hauled away, and the buildings too far gone to be saved have been demolished, leaving empty spaces that leer and beckon at the same time. The drizzle falling from the sky has picked up to the point I'm glad I decided to wear my cloak. The decision was made more to hide the pair of daggers tucked in the back of my belt, but the dark red material shields me from the rain as an added benefit.

Still, I hurry through the winding streets-and a few detours-that separate the palace from the alienage. No sense looking any more ragged and windblown than necessary when showing up unannounced. I make good time, especially considering the winding nature of at least one of the detours, and before I know it, I'm standing outside the alienage gates.

_Okay, here we go..._ I pull in a deep breath, suddenly nervous, though I don't know why. _It's not like they'll hate you or be unhappy to see you, Rahna... The worst that might happen is Shianni giving you a hard time about not writing._

"Did you need somethin'?" the gate guard asks harshly when he sees me staring at the wooden slats. Only a very few have been replaced or bear scorch marks as a reminder of That Day.

"Getting in to see my family would be nice," I retort, trying to sound more cheerful than annoyed.

"Then get in you shall," he grunts, reaching for the lever that operates the gate winch. The creaking wooden obstacle rises into the air, and I barely wait for it to high enough to duck under before surging forward. "You must miss your family a Maker-damned lot, you crazy elf..."

"That I do," I grin through the slats, offering a lighthearted salute before I turn and let my feet carry me almost by instinct to my father's house. My house.

**oOo**

The wood seems rougher than I remember as I rap my knuckles against the solid door, chuckling slightly at the weathered graffiti carved into it by a certain trio of bored teenaged cousins. I hear the tread of footsteps inside, then the bolt disengaging. The door swings wide and before I can even process who opened it, my father is sweeping me into a hug.

"I've missed you, my girl," he whispers fiercely, his grasp seeming to tighten slightly.

Caught off-guard as I was, my return hug is more stunned than enthusiastic, glad as I am to see him. "Missed you, too, Father," I murmur against his neck, my fingers digging into his shirt. We stand there for a long moment, both simply enjoying the hug. Finally, I force myself to take a step back. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

My father laughs and shakes his head. "Even if you were, we wouldn't mind. But no, all you're interrupting is the staring contest I was having with the fireplace." He rests one hand on the small of my back and ushers me into the house.

I'm barely over the threshold when I'm greeted by a shriek, a _thunk_ of wood smacking wood, and another incredibly tight hug, this one pressing red hair that smells of lavender and sweat against my cheek.

"Hi, Shianni," I chuckle, wrapping my arms around her and squashing a pang of worry at how thin she seems.

"Maker's breath, what's the big idea?" she grumbles when she finally lets me go.

"Whaddya mean?" I grin, crossing my arms as I watch her right the chair she knocked over in her haste to greet me.

"Not writing for almost a year? Showing up unannounced?" She punches me in the shoulder. "How hard would it have been to write one little note to let us know what you were up to every once in a while?"

I laugh, because this is Shianni's way of letting me know she missed me without actually putting it into words. "Saving the world is very time-consuming, y'know. Writing just... tends to slide."

"Yeah, sure, that's what they _all_ say..." she mutters around a smile. "It's good to see you, cousin."

"Same to you. How have things been here?"

My father gestures for me to take a seat at the table as he answers. "Could be better. But they could also be much, much worse."

Shianni snorts. "As always... The shems responsible for rebuilding don't seem to care much about the state of things here, surprise surprise."

"We've been making what repairs we can ourselves," Father explains. "But it's slow going. At least we didn't suffer as much damage as some parts of the city. There were only a couple buildings that were a total loss."

"Even so, it'll probably take us longer to get things back to normal than the whole rest of the city," Shianni retorts. "And lots of people who are unhappy about that; it's not just me."

"I know, Shianni, I know." There's the faintest hint of exasperation in my father's voice as he tries to calm her down.

I clear my throat and change the subject. "So, where's Soris?"

"Passed out from exhaustion back there," Shianni replies, jerking her thumb toward my old room. "Just got back from another one of his wild goose chases. He'll probably sleep straight through today and tonight both."

"Wild goose..." I wince. "I take it he hasn't found Valora, huh?"

She shakes her head, sighing in frustration. "No, and he never will. But he's too damn stubborn to just accept that and get on with his life, so he's gonna kill himself tryin' to find her."

"Shianni, don't."

"What? It's _true_, Uncle Cyrion," she protests. "The Tevinters took dozens, if not hundreds of us, and Soris thinks he can find one woman-who may not even have survived long enough to _make it_ to Tevinter-in all that mess? He's crazier than Rahna." She shoots me an apologetic smile. "No offense."

"Hey, Shianni, _no one_ is crazier than I am," I chuckle. "Other than that... none taken."

She laughs. "So, how long are you in town, cousin? Soris'll be mad if he finds out he missed you."

I snort. "Oh, I'm here for the next month, at least. He'll have plenty of opportunity to see me, don't worry."

"Excellent." She smirks. "So, since you never found time to write us, you realize this means you have to tell us everything_ now_."

I feign horror. "Everything I've been up to for the past year?"

"Yep._ Everything_. But it's only just over nine months, not a year, you silly goose," she retorts as my father hands each of us a mug of the home-brewed ale Alarith makes in the back room of his store.

"You can omit any of the more trifling and boring details," he corrects, sitting down between us.

"Well, okay fine, yes," Shianni concedes. "But all the interesting things, from the moment you and that blond elf vanished from Denerim, up 'til now."

"For starters, his name is Zevran," I chuckle. "And we decided to go adventuring..."

**oOo**

Imara was right; it's dark by the time I finish telling my story. Dark and _late_. I toy with the idea of simply spending the night here. It would be far safer than an elven woman traveling alone at night, regardless of how well I can take care of myself. And the upper bunk in my old room is still free, so there's an available bed.

But all I can think of is the fact that I brought the _king_ of worrywarts to the city with me, and Jowan will probably have a full-blown panic attack if I'm still gone come morning. He knew I wanted to visit my family, he knows what city streets are like at night. No matter how much he may try to convince himself I'm fine, I know exactly how well that'll work.

_If I stay here, he won't sleep a wink tonight..._ I sigh. Much as part of me is tempted to stay the night, I know he'll just assume the worst. _And we can't have that._

So I say goodbye to my father and Shianni, leave a note-short and rather teasing-for Soris, swear to be careful-er than careful, and leave.

**oOo**

I'm halfway back to the palace, and well out of the worst neighborhoods, when I run into trouble. The men are waiting around a blind corner, far enough from the more central areas of the city the patrolling guards aren't likely to find or even hear them.

"Hey, you! Stop right there!" the leader of the three commands as they step into the street, two behind me and one ahead.

_Dammit, dammit, __**dammit**_. My hands instinctively curl around the hilts of my daggers under my cloak as I scan for a way to slip this trap. There isn't one. I'm effectively boxed in. My grasp on the daggers tightens.

"Get yer hands where I kin see 'em!" the leader barks.

_Scared, penniless elf, Rahna. You're a scared penniless elf._ By playing that role, if I do have to fight them to get out of here, I can catch them off guard and have an advantage aside from the fact I can see in the dark ten times better than they can. "I-I ain't got nothin' valuable!" I protest, injecting a false note of fear into my voice and raising my hands, hoping the folds of my cloak are concealing the daggers.

"That's alright, honey," the shortest of the three purrs, moving closer. "It's funny what's valuable t' folks these days..." He runs one hand down the curve of my neck and my stomach lurches as I fight to keep from punching his lights out.

"D-Don't touch me!" I shriek, jerking away from him. _Maker, please let them have read that as fear, not anger..._

Shorty laughs. "Ooh, yer gonna be fun..."

_Just wait till you see how fun I am, bastard..._ An image of Vaughan flashes through my mind, and for a split second, I'm actually afraid. But I'm not that girl anymore. I am not the defenseless, weaponless bride I was then. When he reaches for me again, I catch his wrist and twist it backwards until he howls in pain.

"I said _don't touch me_, shem," I growl, putting just a fraction more pressure into my grip.

"You_ bitch_!" He backhands me across the face, sending me stumbling into the corner of a wall.

I bite back a yelp as the wooden edge digs into my side and I feel blood trickle from where his blow split my lip.

"Ha, this one's got _spirit_," the third man, silent until now, crows. He moves toward me, and I can see him smirking in the gloom.

_"See the pretty bride... Oh, we're going to have some fun..."_ The memories are crowding in closer now, thick with rage and panic, despite my best efforts to keep them at bay.

I just growl in reply, ducking when he rushes at me and giving him a shove for added impetus. He crashes headfirst into the building and collapses in a stunned heap. I feel a rush of confidence fill me now that the odds are slightly less skewed against me.

Cursing, the leader grabs my wrist and hauls me towards him. I whip out a dagger with my free hand and swing it in a wild arc, the blade nicking his jaw. "Aw, you _**bitch**_!"

_**"Bastard**_!" I fire right back, twisting my arm free of his grasp just as his fist slams into the side of my head. I yelp and nearly pass out, stars exploding across my vision. _No, Rahna, you can't. Stay on your feet, girl, or it's all over._ A thin smile curves my lips as I remember thinking much the same thing near River Dane. _I don't think Jowan's gonna come to my rescue this time, though..._ It's all up to me. And even with the odds two to one, I don't think I can beat them on my own. Not with my head ringing like it is. So I do the next best thing.

I run. With only two of them, it's impossible to close all potential escape routes, so just as the third man groans and stirs, I dart through a gap between the two menacing me. I feel fingers dig into my cloak, and don't even slow as I tear the clasp loose and leave it behind.

Tears prick my eyes as I bolt down the first available alley. _That was Alistair's cloak._

_ "Please just... get me out of here. I want to go home..."_

I smear away the tears, my unthinking action setting a new wave of pain surging from where the leader punched me. _I think I finally understand, Shianni, if only a little. I'm so, so sorry..._ I struggle to calm myself as I wind my way through alleys and back street, aching and tired, my nerves more ragged than they've been in my life. I actually get lost a couple times; _lost_ in the city I know like the back of my hand.

I've never been happier to see anything than when the palace gates finally loom in front of me.

_A/N: Geez, Rahna apparently attracts trouble wherever she goes. :I I was not planning on the ambush; it surprised me almost as much as it did her. Shianni also came out a bit more bitter than I was intending, but oh well. It still reads like her. I think. And we'll have to get to Soris later. Also, sorry this chapter's a bit shorter than usual. I was going to take it further, but 'further' wound up being too long. So just wait til you see some of the stuff I now have for the beginning of the next chapter. :3_


	88. Speechless

88. Speechless

Fortunately for me, the guard on duty is one who recognizes me, and he lets me in with no fuss at all.

I'm bone-weary now that the adrenaline and fear have worn off, and I slowly make my way back to our rooms, gingerly running my fingers over the damage to my face. When I reach the double doors that lead to our suite, I hesitate, part of me wishing I'd passed a mirror somewhere in the halls so I at least knew how bad it is before I walk in there. Since I don't know if Nathaniel or Jowan is still up, I really don't like the thought of entering with no clue how much of a mess I am. _Oh, well._ I sigh as I drag open one of the door just wide enough to slip in.

Nathaniel's not in sight, and when you add up the late hour and the fact his door's shut, I'm fairly certain he's asleep. Jowan, on the other hand, is in the main room, dozing on the couch with his head propped on his hand and his elbow braced against the arm of the couch. I'm torn between wincing and smiling when I seem him there. On the one hand, it's sweet he wanted to wait up for me. On the other, I hope I can sneak past without waking him up. Between simply wanting to let him sleep and _not_ wanting him to see me like this, I'm praying fervently he doesn't wake up as I tiptoe across the room. _Thank the Maker for stone floors..._

All my care goes to waste, however, when I reach my room. The door squeaks faintly, and he jerks awake.

"Rahna, 'zat you?" Well, okay, _half_ awake.

"Mm-hm. Go back to sleep." _Please, please, please..._

I don't know if it's something in my tone or what, but he sounds more awake as he asks, "You alright?"

"'M fine," I answer, face turned toward my room, hoping there's nothing about my appearence that makes an obvious liar of me.

"Then why's it look like you have a black eye?"

_Rats._ "I... had a run-in with some thugs on my way back. But I'm fine, okay? Promise."

"Rahna." He sounds very much awake, and more than a little like he doesn't believe me. "Fine like when half your ribcage was black and blue?"

"No, I-" I turn to face him and am taken aback when he visibly winces. _Dear Maker, does it look that bad?_ The pain has settled to a dull ache in my head and I can't even feel the split lip anymore. "What?"

"C'mere." He's using his_ No arguments_ voice again, so I sigh and shuffle over to the couch. Jowan only gets stubborn about things he considers really important.

I plop next to him and mutter, "It doesn't even hurt that m- OW!" I slap a hand over my mouth and dart a chagrined glance towards Nate's room as Jowan yanks his hand back from tracing the purpling ring around my right eye.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Just want to make sure nothing's broken under there..."

"Jowan, I think I'd know if I had a skull fracture," I assure him, trying to joke.

"Not funny." His touch is far more gentle as he runs his fingers over the tender area, the familiar tingley sensation of a healing spell soaking into my skin.

"Mmm, you've gotten better at those..." I mumble as the ache fades.

He snorts. "All that time spent healing at the Vigil with Anders to learn from, I don't think I could've kept from getting better if I'd _tried_."

I smirk as he tilts my chin up to get a better look at my lip. "I told you you were sellin' yourself short."

"Mm." The noise isn't quite agreement, but at least he's not arguing the point. He brushes his thumb over the gash in my lip, magic knitting the skin back together. "There we go. Can't having you looking like a rough and tumble street rat whenever you end up meeting with the queen, now can we?"

I chuckle. "Thank you, ser mage. Speaking of which... those robes look good on you."

He rolls his eyes. "Thanks."

"Now go to bed," I order, pushing off the couch and hauling him up after me.

"Yes, ser," he teases, adding in a mock-salute.

I'm too tired to sock him in the arm for that, so I settle for shooting him a dirty look as I head for my room. "G'night, Jowan."

"Night, Rahna," he returns, before heading for his room.

**oOo**

I don't get much sleep, even after I tumble into bed with hardly a pause to yank off my boots. The nightmares see to that. And these aren't Warden nightmares; full of darkspawn and taint-smeared tunnels and a sickening dread in the pit of my stomach. These come overflowing with a whirl of garish yellow silk, blood, fury, and lecherous green eyes. I wake up panting and terrified more times than I care to count, only managing the smallest amount of gratitude that I don't scream.

Finally, I give up on sleep and simply hug my pillow as I stare at the ceiling until the first fingers of daylight creep through the shutters. It's only then I drift off into an uneasy doze.

**oOo**

Thanks to my late start on sleeping, both Nathaniel and Jowan are awake when I finally drag myself out of bed and go in search of breakfast.

"Rough night," I mumble in explanation when Nathaniel shoots me a curious look. One of Jowan's eyebrows quirks ever so slightly. "I didn't get back until late, and things are still tough for my family... It took me awhile to get to sleep is all."

'_Liar,_' Jowan mouths from across the table. I kick him in the shin. I'm still barefoot, so I'm sure it doesn't hurt much, but I just want him to knock it off. He winces and shoots me a dirty look.

"Are you going to be alright if the queen wants to speak with you today?" Nathaniel asks with a quiet chuckle. "I know how you can get when you're tired, Commander."

"Eh, if it's anything Warden-related, I'll just send my unofficial second-in-command," I shoot back, smirking at him.

"And if it's not?" he presses.

I shrug. "I'll do m'best to stay awake and hope she doesn't want to talk too long."

He doesn't look like he exactly _approves_ of this plan, but it's the best I've got, so we'll have to run with it. The rest of breakfast is eaten in silence, each of us deep in our own thoughts. Once I finish, I head back to my room to change clothes. Pulling off my shirt has me wincing and hissing in pain, and I shoot a hasty glance at the full-length mirror hanging on one wall.

_Well, it's not __**quite**__ half my ribcage..._ I argue to myself when I see the trail of black and blue marks running up my side from where I collided with that wall last night. So long as I don't stretch too far or do anything too physical-like running for my life through the back alleys of Denerim-I should be fine. _Whatever I do, I'm __**not**__ telling Jowan_, I promise myself, as I strip off the rest of my clothes and reach into the armoire for clean ones. The burgundy tunic I grab is one I bought in Lothering, one of only two shirts I have that survived all of my adventures with only minimal damage. I pair it with dark grey pants and shove my feet into my boots before reaching for my hairbrush.

Thanks to my wild flight through the city last night, my hair is an absolute _mess_; so tangled I'm tempted to just chop it all short again. But I've spent nearly a year growing it out, and being able to pull it back out of my eyes is nice, so I grit my teeth and keep brushing. By the time I'm done, my hair is smoother than it's been in quite a while, and I've given myself a headache. Apparently, my skull is still a little tender from that punch last night. Jowan took care of the black eye for me, but I think I'm just going to have to let this heal up naturally.

"Rahna, can I come in?"

I smile at the muffled question, knowing he can't see me through the closed door. "Yes, Jowan, you can come in."

The door creaks open to admit the mage, and he closes it again behind him. "Why'd you lie to Nathaniel?"

I roll my eyes. "I didn't _lie_, Jowan. I just... was careful how I phrased things so he didn't go off worrying fit to rival you."

The teasing jab barely earns me half a smile, and that's brief. "Rahna..." He sits on the edge of my bed, shoving the crumpled blankets out of the way.

"Jowan, I'm fine, okay?" I promise him. _Okay, so that's a bit of a lie... but my ribs don't hurt __**that **__much..._ "They didn't cause any permenant damage."

"I know, I just..." He sighs, huffing loose strands of hair out of his eyes as he looks at me. "What made you even _try_?"

I plop down next to him and shoot him a lopsided grin. "I didn't want you to worry about me."

He stares at me like I grew another head. "You didn't- Maker's _breath_, Rahna..." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "You decided to walk through Denerim _by yourself_ at night because you didn't want me to worry? I appreciate the thought, honest I do, but next time you have a choice between letting me worry and taking a risk like that... Please, just let me worry."

"Jowan-"

"I'd rather lose a night's sleep than lose you."

_That_ shuts me up. "I- Y-You're trying to master the art of leaving me speechless, aren't you?" I finally manage to joke.

"And I have a pretty bloody good success rate," he points out with a grin as he tugs on a lock of my hair.

"Stupid mage," I grumble, trying to hide a matching grin as I swat his hand away. Even as he chuckles and stands to leave, there's a soft knock on my door. "Who is it?"

"Imara, m'lady," comes the reply. "Her Majesty would like to speak with you in private."

"I'll be right out," I promise, glancing back at Jowan.

"Bet you're in trouble, " he whispers teasingly.

I stick my tongue out at him as I leave the room. However, knowing how rocky things have been between me and the queen before, he might not be wrong.

**oOo**

I follow Imara through the winding palace halls, trying to figure out what Anora wants to talk to me about. It could be anything; this 'other matter' she hinted at on my invitation, wondering if the garrison in Amaranthine needs more reinforcements, wanting an explanation for my choice of companions... Even if she doesn't recognize or know Jowan, I'm fairly certain the same cannot be said for Nathaniel. A teryn's daughter and an arl's son must surely have at the very least crossed paths at some point. All of this-combined with the state of things for my family-is just too much. _Just... don't worry about it, Rahna. Nothing you can really do right now, anyway..._ I sigh.

"What wrong, m'lady?" Imara asks, turning to look at me with concern.

"I... Well, let's just say life could stand to be a whole lot better than it is for my family, and I can't really think of anything I can do to fix it."

"Ah. Did you visit with them go poorly, then?" Her concerned frown deepens slightly.

"I wouldn't say poorly, exactly..." Another sigh. "Life always seems to deal elves a rotten hand, and the one my alienage got following the battle seems to be especially poor. Plus, my cousin's wife was sold to the Tevinters, and he's killing himself trying to find her again."

"Oh, that's horrible!" Her eyes widen. "I'm so sorry."

"Wasn't your fault, Imara," I shrug. "Loghain's the one who authorized the slavers to do their... _business_ in the Alienage. And what's done is done. I'm honestly not sure whether to encourage Soris to keep looking, or to back up Shianni in telling him it's a fool's errand. I know he loved Valora, but I don't want to watch him waste his life trying to undo something that can be undone."

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually, m'lady. Did you have much trouble comin' home?"

I let out a wry chuckle as I thank the Maker for her phrasing, a picture of Jowan's expression while patching me up filling my mind. "Nope. Not much trouble at all."

She looks at me suspiciously, like she's not entirely sure if I'm being honest with her, but doesn't push. "Good. I was worried about you comin' home that late. You know what this city can be like at night."

I nod. "Indeed I do. But as you can see, I'm fine."

"And thank the Maker for that," she mutters, coming to a halt and rapping her knuckles against one of the doors that line this hallway.

"Come in," orders Anora's voice, slightly muffled by the wood. Imara opens the door, dropping a respectful curtsy as she allows me to walk past her into the room. "Ah, Commander. Just the woman I wanted to see."

"Yes, Imara mentioned you wanted to speak with me," I reply, crossing my arms and trying to look as non-confrontational as I can.

"I did. Have you managed to settle in alright?" she asks, rising from behind her desk and skirting to converse with me.

"We have, thank you, your majesty. But I'm sure you had another purpose to this conversation than making sure me and my friends are comfortable. So why the small talk to put me at ease?"

Something that looks torn between admiration and irritation flickers in her eyes. "Very well. I have a rather direct and possibly somewhat delicate question I want to ask you, Commander. And I simply wanted it to be clear I am not trying to make you feel unwelcome here."

"I see." I nod. "Well, then, ask away."

"I will want a direct answer, Commander." She looks unhappy. "Much as I wish I did not need to ask this, it is important."

"I will give the best and most direct answer I can, your majesty," I assure her.

She meets my eyes, her gaze steady. "Why did you bring a Howe as guest when I am marrying a Cousland?"

_A/N: Surprise! Posting early becaue tomorrow is going to be INSANE. I have to be out of the house early and essentially work all day, so I'm just gonna get this out there now. I do apologize for the cliffhangerishness, folks, but it was getting long again. And Rahna and Anora's back-and-forth is going to go for a while, so I'm saving that for the next chapter. I also promise to do my best avoiding a simple rehash of the reasons Rahna's already given for bringing Nathaniel with her. I mean, this __**is**__ Anora we're talking about here. Rahna's going to have to give more politically minded answers to satisfy Ze Queen. :3_


	89. Experience

89. Experience

I don't even bat an eyelash at Anora's question, and I can see this surprises her just a little. "Because, in my view, the benefits to his being here far outweigh any negative consequences that may arise."

She arches an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Hayden's _brother_ is going to be here, Commander. I know Hayden told you what happened the night Arl Howe turned on his family."

I nod. "He did."

"So now I'm curious as to what benefits you could possibly see to having Fergus Cousland in the same room as the son of the man responsible for the deaths of his wife and son." The perfect blond eyebrow arches even higher as Anora waits for me to explain myself.

I take a deep breath. "Leaving aside the fact Teryn Cousland might be more level-headed than you give him credit for, I need Nathaniel with me. There's no one in this world that I trust more than him, and there were no other Wardens with the... background to educate me in proper court manners. So I'm capable of behaving myself properly at your wedding and any other parties you may want me to attend."

"I could have seen to that, Commander," Anora protests. "If it truly a concern in your mind."

I shrug off the thinly-veiled accusation of making excuses and shoot back, "I'll learn faster with him. Trust me. Additionally, think of the statement it will make to the nobility-and eventually all of Ferelden-if he attends."

She sighs heavily. "Explain."

"If it becomes known that a Howe was allowed as guest at this wedding, it will show people, first of all, that neither Hayden nor you hold grudge or are in inclined to make children pay for the sins of their fathers. Second, it would be taken as fences being at least somewhat mended-if imperfectly-between the two families, which would present an image of unity and show that this new prince-consort, king, whatever he's going to be... is capable of looking past his personal feeling for the good of Ferelden."

Anora chuckles wryly. "Despite your dislike for politics, Commander... You're most skilled at giving persuasive speeches."

I snort. "Thank you, your highness. Was there anything else?"

"Just one thing more." She clears her throat. "And this is more personal curiosity than anything else: is your other companion a mage?"

"Yes. Traveling is easier in regular clothes, your majesty. We weren't trying to hide anything, so he changed into mage robes once we were settled in our rooms."

"I see," Anora nods. "Thank you, Commander. That explanation is perfectly satisfactory. I'll let you get back to your friends now."

"Thank you, your majesty. I still have a few things I need to learn that couldn't be taught along the road." I bow respectfully and leave the room. Part of me is surprised at how smoothly that went, and the rest is wondering what Anora's scheming to do with the information she just got out of me.

**oOo**

"So, what did she want?" Sure as I am that they were _both_ wondering, Jowan's the one who actually asks.

"Three guesses," I shoot back, darting a glance at Nathaniel. I have a feeling he wasn't the one to ask because he already knows the answer. He seems to have a knack for making correct assumptions about people's motivations and intentions. It's part of why I trust him as my unofficial second in command.

"She was worried about me being here, wasn't she?" the archer mutters.

I nod. "I would say more _concerned_ than worried... but, yes."

Nathaniel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. "I told you me coming was a bad idea, Rahna."

"And _I_ told _you_ not to worry about it," I fire back with a smirk. "I talked to her and she's... well, I'd be lying if I said she was thrilled with the idea, but she's alright with you being here."

"What a relief," he mutters drily. "So I only have to worry about _Hayden_ wanting to kill me."

"And his brother," I correct cheerily. "Anora made more of a point of the fact Fergus was going to be there than what what effect your presence might have on Hayden."

Nathaniel groans and runs one hand through his hair. "Maker's breath, _Rahna_..."

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," I assure him with a cheeky grin.

"Rahna, I'm serious." He sighs again. "Delilah told me some of the things our father did... If anyone has good reason to hold a grudge against our family, it would be Fergus."

"Alright, so he has a reason to hold a grudge. From what I hear, your families were friends, um, before. _Would_ he hold a grudge?" I point out.

He shrugs. "I haven't seen the man in nearly a decade, Rahna. I honestly don't know. We were friends before I left for the Free Marches, but I know he loved his family. So I can't be sure one way or another."

"Well, then..." I bite my lip in thought for a moment. "I'll have to settle for keeping your mind off that particular tricky issue for the moment."

He quirks an eyebrow at me in confusion. "How, exactly, do you plan to do that?"

It's my turn to shrug. "I still need to learn how to dance..."

Jowan grins. "Now this, I have to see."

I wrinkle my nose at him. "Shut up. Or I'll make you learn, too."

A small smile tugs the corners of Nathaniel's mouth at our antics. "Do you really think you need to learn?"

"Andraste's _ass_, yes!" I shoot him an incredulous look. "Even factoring in the predjudices against elves, Fereldan noblemen seem to have a thing for elven women, _and_ I'm the... Hero of Ferelden." Both of them chuckle at how I had to force the title past my lips and I glare playfully. "Laugh it up, you two. Anyway, given who I am and everything, I'm sure at least one vapid, one-upping, popularity-hungry hound will'Request the _honor_ of this dance'," I mimic an upper class nobleman's accent, and smirk as I watch Jowan try unsuccessfully to not laugh. "Since I also know it will get gossiped about later... I'd really like to minimize the number of bad things to be said about my dancing skills."

"When you put it that way, how do I refuse?" Nathaniel chuckles.

I smile sweetly at him. "You don't. Or I'll make it an order."

He gives me a rueful smirk. "Well, we wouldn't want that..."

**oOo**

The dance lessons go decent. Not spectacular, but not horrible. And only after I banish Jowan from the room. Having an audience was making me nervous. He chuckles when I admit this and teases that since he's not wanted here, he's going for a walk. I roll my eyes at his back as he leaves, but have to admit knowing there's no one watching makes me relax a considerable amount.

"Alright, let's try again..." Nathaniel encourages.

I let out a wry chuckle and bite my lip apologetically. "I'll try not to step on your feet this time."

He laughs. "Rahna, it's not a problem, trust me."

"Maybe not for _you_," I mutter, staring more at my hand on his shoulder than his eyes, "But I need to stop doing that before I'll be dancing with some dandy who _does_ care."

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asks. "You've seemed nervous and tense all day."

I nod. "Just wish Anora would bloody tell me what this 'other matter' she wants to discuss with me is... And Imara mentioned something about finding time for the palace seamstress to come measure me for a _dress_..." My nose wrinkles with distaste and Nathaniel chuckles. "I guess it's just a case of having a lot on my mind." A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "So apparently you aren't the only one who needs a distraction..."

"And there's nothing wrong with that," he points out. His hand settles more firmly on my waist, his fingertips _just_ brushing the edge of my bruises, and I bite back a wince. Not fast enough, apparently. "What?" Nathaniel frowns.

"Damn..." I mutter. "I, um, sort of had an... altercation with some thugs on my way home last night. Was too shy to have Jowan heal up the bruises..."

Nathaniel glances at where his hand is resting and very quickly puts two and two together. "I see."

"They don't hurt that much..." I promise, dropping my hand to still his as he starts to pull back. "No worse than knowing the cloak I lost was Alistair's and thus my favorite..."

"Ah."

"Plus combining that experience with the thought I'm going to be interacting with nobles soon brought back some unpleasant memories..." I let my voice trail off, but quirk an eyebrow in surprise when Nathaniel gives me a confused look. "What, you don't know my story?"

"You're rather tight-lipped about your life before the Wardens, Rahna," he reminds me, and I have to admit he's right. Jowan and Zev know, I told Alistair, and Anders got the abridged version.

"I'll fill you in, but, um, can we be, y'know, moving? That might make it easier..."

"Of course." He nods, reaches up to settle my hand back on his shoulder, and starts us on the now-familiar pattern of dance steps as I begin my story. I watch his face go more and more serious and almost _blank_ as I talk, from Shianni waking me on what should have been the happiest day of my life through the moment I raked my dagger across Vaughan Urien's throat. By the time I get to covering for Soris-_I_ was the one drenched in blood, after all-and Duncan recruiting me, Nathaniel is _furious_. I can see it in the way his eyes have gone positively glacial, how very careful he's being to _not_ let his emotions show on his face. I now him well enough by now to know he only clamps down so hard when he's really, really _sodding_ furious.

"Nate?" I squeeze his hand, wondering why, of all the people who know my story, he's the only one to get so angry about it. Everyone else got sympathetic, righteously indignant maybe, but no one's ever seemed willing to set heads rolling over what happened. Even Alistair was more _incredulous_ than _angry_.

"We..." He sighs. "My father and Arl Urien were... not quite friends, but more than simply acquaintances. Political allies, I suppose is the best way to describe it. They usually supported the same points when issues were raised." He stares past me, seeming to focus on the painting that dominates one wall of the room. "Delilah wrote me a couple years ago, all worried because Thomas had started spending a lot of time visiting 'friends' in Denerim, and being that one of these so-called friends was Vaughan, and some of the rumors she'd heard about him, she wanted to know if she should say anything, warn Thomas about the company he was keeping. I told her it was better to let him make his own mistakes; experience is a better teacher than anything else-"

"Which I'm guessing _you_ know from experience?" I tease as we slow to a stop, both of us moving to sit on one of the couches.

He nods. "Yes. She wrote again a few months later, sounding even more worried. She said between Vaughan and... other influences-" He pauses, winces at the realization she meant their father "-she felt like she was losing her other brother."

"Whadidya tell her?"

"If she thought it was a real concern, to say something to him, but we both knew how bloody stubborn Thomas could be." He lets out another sigh. "Shortly after, the battle of Ostagar happened, and between Blight and civil war, I didn't hear from her if she did anything or if it worked."

"Nathaniel, you said it yourself, Thomas had to make his own decisons and learn from him mistakes, same as everyone else." I give his arm a reassuring squeeze. "It's not like you failed him or anything. You were in the bloody _Free Marches_ for Andraste's sake."

"I know. But just knowing what kind of people Thomas was considering his friends, and that my father approved..." Nathaniel shakes his head. "I can't keep from wondering if I could have helped..."

"But then you wouldn't be Warden," I point out. "And _that_ would be a cryin' shame."

A wry smile tugs the corners of his mouth. "No one to give you dance lessons, Commander?"

"Exactly!" I laugh, going along with him. "No voice of reason, either, since I _clearly _can't trust that position to Anders."

He chuckles. "We would all be doomed if you did."

"See? We need you. And I need you. If I remember correctly, there's another Fereldan dance you haven't taught me yet." I jump up from the couch and hold out my hands, wiggling my fingers teasingly. "C'mon, I wanna have this done before the damned seamstress shows up."

Nathaniel rolls his eyes, chuckles again, and slides his hands into mine, letting me drag him to his feet. "This one really isn't that hard, Rahna..."

"Show me."

He does, patiently running through the steps multiple times and helping me practice until Imara bustles into the room, followed closely by the palace seamstress.

_A/N: And yet another chapter that fought me almost every step of the way is down. *great rejoicing* Anora was probably the easiest part to write. ANORA. *headdesk* The world is truly upside down when she's more cooperative than Rahna. :\ Ahrm. And I must admit, when I picture Nate teaching Rahna to dance, I have a teensy moment of wishing I'd never created Vi. And that Rahna wasn't such a stubborn muse. Because she and Nathaniel would be so. freaking. cute. Just sayin'. But Vi does exist, and Rahna is stubborn(and I love her for it-usually), and I have some awesome stuff planned for the NatexVi thing, so Rahna will just have to wind up with someone else. Or single. But knowing me, do you really think that'll happen? XD_


	90. Exactly Right

90. Exactly Right

It was more than a little weird for him to be back here, he had to admit. Add in that this time he was an actual _guest_, not a _prisoner_, and Jowan would readily confess he wasn't entirely sure what to think.

_At least you don't have to worry about running into Loghain, _some part of his brain pointed out._**That**__ would be awkward..._ The mage shook his head. He didn't really want to dwell on his last visit to the palace; on the fear, the shame, his desperation to _just fix things_, despite knowing he could never really _fix_ what he'd done. Jowan sighed and ran one hand through his hair, barely catching himself before he destroyed his ponytail. _That's not who I am anymore_, he reminded himself. _Not usually, at least..._ he amended, feeling a pang of _something_ as he glanced at the scar that creased his left hand. The one benefit of the pale blue robes, half-sleeves that covered his lower arms and hid the majority of his scars, did not extend past his wrists. Fortunately, the worse of the twin scars ran across his palm and was easier to hide from others, if not himself.

_You gotta stop thinkin' like that_, a voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Rahna scolded.

Jowan smirked and curled his hand into a fist. _I know, I know... But it's hard._ He shook himself out of the reverie as he came to a fork in the path that wound its way around the palace grounds and had to pick which way to go. He chose the one that stuck closer to the buildings than the walls and continued walking-wandering, really-his mind working its way through a variety of topics before settling on a sense of wry amusement that Rahna had been so self-conscious about having an audience for her dance lessons. Especially considering it was just _him_, and she wasn't that bad. He supposed that had more than a little to do with the fact her style of fighting was similar to dancing. The graceful, flowing movements that carried her around a battlefield probably transfered well to the dance floor.

He was just glad she hadn't made good on her threat to make _him_ learn, too. He planned to find a nice, empty corner and practically glue himself to the wall at any parties their commander talked him into attending. Which, Jowan had to admit to himself, would probably be any that she herself attended, because she'd play the '_I need a familiar face there_' card, and he was incapable of telling her no.

After wandering the palace grounds for what seemed like more than enough time, Jowan decided to head back to their suite of rooms and see if the two were done. _They __**should**__ be. And even if they aren't... I'll just hide in my room so Rahna doesn't have to worry about an audience,_he chuckled, tugging a little on the end of his ponytail. His attention not on where he was going, Jowan rounded a corner and all but walked into a servant coming the other way.

"Careful, handsome," the woman laughed as she dodged sideways to avoid the collision, adding with a teasing wink, "The Maker made your eyes and feet face the same direction for a reason."

"Heh. Sorry," Jowan mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he felt his face heat with embarrassment. "Got lost in thought..."

"No harm done, ser," the brunette chuckled, flicking loose wisps of hair out of her eyes with one hand while the other balanced a huge basket against her hip. " 'M used to it by now. Just wouldn't want one of Her Majesty's guests walkin' into a wall, now would we?"

He laughed almost despite himself. "This is true."

She bobbed a respectful half-curtsy-the best she could manage while balancing the basket. "Well, still lots t'be done. G'day, ser." And she whisked away before Jowan could reply, though he seemed to feel her eyes on his back as he continued on his way.

**oOo**

Nathaniel was just leaving the rooms as Jowan reached them. "You... might not want to be back in there just yet," he cautioned with a wry smile.

Jowan quirked an eyebrow at the archer. "How come?"

"Rahna's lady-in-waiting showed up with the palace seamstress," Nathaniel explained, actually looking amused. "To fit her for a dress for the wedding."

"Ah." The mage's lips curved into a grin. "Not going so well, I take it?"

"It's Rahna. Being fitted for a dress," was the shrugged reply. "You've known her even longer than I have."

"And this doesn't surprise me at all," Jowan finished for the other man. "Did you leave voluntarily or get thrown out?"

"I left to preempt getting thrown out. Our lovely commander is in a bit of a _mood_."

"Mm-_hm_." Jowan chuckled. "I think I'll risk it, all the same. Maybe I can calm her down."

"If anyone can it's you..." Nathaniel muttered under his breath, smirking as he continued down the hallway.

Both of the mage's eyebrows arced at that before he shouldered open the door and entered the room. Upon doing so, he was greeted by the sight of Rahna, very obviously not in a good mood, clad in an undershirt and trousers under a muslin mock-up of a dress. She looked so entirely out of her element and frustrated he instantly found himself fighting the urge to laugh.

**oOo**

I'm just about to lay into the seamstress for blatantly ignoring my _"No ruffles"_ pronouncement when the door opens and Jowan returns. I shoot him a warning glare as the corners of his mouth start to curl upward, and he at least _tries_ not to smirk. He fails horribly, but at least he's trying.

"Have a good walk?" I ask, twitching a little as the seamstress experiments some more with ruffles.

He nods, obviously biting back a chuckle. "And your dance lessons?"

I shrug, getting a protesting remonstrance from the seamstress. "I won't make a complete fool of myself now, at least..."

"This is good." That chuckle he bit back slips out around the words as he leans against the back of the couch.

"Mmm. I told you I don't want ruffles!" This last is bit out sharply and aimed at the seamstress.

"Rahna..." Jowan mumbles, trying to calm me down.

"No, I told her, I am _not_ a 'ruffles' kind of person," I shoot back petulantly. "I _don't want them_."

"W-With respect, my lady..." the seamstress speaks up. "You haven't liked _anything_ I've tried."

"That's because none of those things were _me_," I grumble.

"Rahna, dresses in general aren't _you_," Jowan reminds me. "Maybe cut the poor woman some slack?"

She shoots him a small, grateful smile. "I am open to any suggestions you might have, my lady."

"I told you; something simple, not too... floofy, and No. Ruffles." Part of me feels bad for being grumpy with her, but Jowan's right; dresses aren't my thing, and she's not listening to me.

Jowan chews on his lower lip in thought as I grind out my slightly snippy reply. "Hang on a minute..." He disappears into his bedroom and is gone for closer to five or six minutes than one, emerging with a small piece of vellum in hand. "Would this work?" He offers it to the seamstress, who gives first it then me an appraising look.

"What?" My curious nature in overdrive, I hop down off the stool the tall-ish woman had me standing on and scurry over to kneel on the sofa so I can see.

The vellum is mostly occupied by a rough sketch, the haste of its creation evidenced by the rough lines it's comprised of and the new ink stains on Jowan's fingers, depicting a woman from the neck down, her height and slender build comparable to my own. The dress she's wearing is exactly the kind of thing I'd being willing to tolerate; simple, flowing design, empire-waisted, and with only just enough frilly accents along the square neckline and on the bodice to make it look feminine.

"Wow, this is pretty good," I mutter.

"Don't sound so surprised, Rahna," Jowan chuckles, and I want to hide from embarrassment as I remember the sketches that trailed along the bottom edge of his letters from Kaiten; buildings and people and whatever else he felt like drawing.

"Riiight." I clear my throat and offer him a brief, apologetic smile before turning my attention back to the sketch. "Are those ruffles?" I can't resist teasing, shooting him a smirk.

"_No_," Jowan shoots back, rolling his eyes at me. "It's _frills_. You never said anything about frills." Now _he's_ smirking.

"That's... that's a technicality!" I protest, trying not to laugh.

"Maybe to a woman," he ribs. "Trust me on this, they're very different in the male mind." His smirk widens as my face gets red. "Just want you to look good. _Boss._"

I glare at him. "Maker, I hate you right now."

"At least you're in a better mood," he retorts, grinning. "I can see it in your eyes."

I huff out an annoyed sigh. "Go away. Before I hit you."

He laughs. "As you wish, Commander."

"What have I told you about titles, you-" My tirade sputters to a halt as I fail to come up with a suitable insult before he's ducked behind his door.

The seamstress is staring at me with a bemused look in her eyes. "D'you... talk to all your friends like that, my lady?"

I chuckle as I climb back up on the stool. "Only the ones I really like."

**oOo**

After another hour of the seamstress trying things-all based off of Jowan's sketch-she settles on something I like that she thinks will be easy enough to make. I leave the color up to her, figuring if she does this for a living she has a good eye for that sort of thing. She thanks me for my trust and promises to have the dress finished in plenty of time to make adjustments before the wedding.

After she gathers up her paraphenalia and bustles out of the room, I pull my shirt back on and make a beeline for Jowan's door, rapping my knuckles against the wood. "Can I come in?"

"Only if you promise not to hit me," comes his amused-and slightly muffled-reply.

"Cross m'heart and hope to die," I sing-song through a grin.

"I guess that'll work..." He lets it trail off as he tugs open the door. "I s'ppose I can trust you."

"You wouldn't be the first to make that mistake," I riposte, giving his ponytail a good yank as I saunter past.

"Ow!" he yelps, belatedly swatting my hand away. "So you came in here just to abuse me?"

"Maybe possibly," I reply sweetly, perching cross-legged on his unmade bed.

"You're an evil woman," he laughs.

"Well, you're an evil _man_, so I guess that's the reason we're friends."

He chuckles. "Point. I couldn't resist. But what's up? I know you didn't _really_ come in here just to abuse me."

I decide to let that opening slide and just smile. "I just wanted to say thanks for, um, helping with that whole _dress_ thing. I was literally seconds away from saying somethin' I would've regretted."

"No problem," he assures me with a lopsided smile. "I know how you can get. That temper of yours doesn't surface much now, but I imagine it's really bad when it does."

"Heh, you'd... be exactly right," I admit sheepishly, thinking of Zimri. "Just like you somehow were exactly right what kind of dress would be perfect for me. How'd you _do_ that, anyway? Especially so fast?"

He shrugs, sitting next to me on the bed. "The design... just sorta came to me as something that would look good on you. Far as geting it done fast... it's was a really rough sketch, and rather messy."

"I noticed that," I tease, smudging the faint ink stain along his cheekbone with my thumb. "I still think it's funny you were able to came up with something so absolutely perfect for me so _fast_. You been checkin' me out behind my back?" I rib, feeling a surge of purely wicked enjoyment as he goes absolutely scarlet.

"_No!_ Maker's breath, Rahna-"

"I'm kidding!" I interrupt, nearly dying of laughter. "Sweet _Andraste,_ you are way too easy sometimes."

He glares at me. "I hate you. You're a _bad_ person."

A memory of blond hair over flushed cheeks and an embarrassed grin shot at a white haired old woman flashes through my mind so fast I barely have time to acknowledge its presence before it's gone again. I force a grin through the punched-in-the-gut feeling. "We already _established_ that we're both bad, remember?"

"_Evil_," he corrects, a touch of concern edging his grin. "You're evil and bad. I'm just evil."

While I think he maybe shouldn't say that so casually, considering his past and the fact that the walls here probably have ears, I'm not dragging the conversation down like that. "I'll fix that soon enough," I declare. "You shall be just as much both as I am."

"Huh, we'll see about _that_..." he snorts jokingly, giving me a smirk of exaggerated disbelief.

I just smirk right back at him. When will that silly mage learn I _love_ a challenge?

_A/N: Maker, Jowan, when did you turn into such a troll?! XD I am not going to lie, despite the trouble this gave me in spots, it was an incredibly fun chapter to write. Jowan's general awesomeness and trolling their fearless leader made any pulling-my-hair-out-by-the-roots moments worth it. He's grown so much since that chance encounter with Rahna waaaay back in Aftermath. I'm so proud of him. And also: I posted this so early because I'm going out of town starting Monday, and didn't feel it would be fair to make you guys wait til Thursday or possibly Friday to read this chapter. We'll have to see how much I can get written for the next one, being away from my computer and all on Wednesday and Thursday both(which are my big writing days). Hopefully chapter 91 won't be too horribly late. ;) Speaking of that... I'm absolutely amazed at how long this has gotten. I am truly trying to wrap things up and move on to the next part of Rahna's story, but she and Jowan have proven so darn talkative, it's taking longer than I thought it would. :I_


	91. Round Two

91. Round Two

The next week is so uneventful, I'm tempted to classify it as downright _boring._ I try multiple times to talk to Anora, see if I can get some more details about whatever it was she wanted to talk to me about, and get stonewalled every single time by a secretary who deflects me with some line about 'wedding details'. By the fourth time, I'm getting more than a little pissed. _Why'd she ask me to come early if she's just going to put off talking to me?!_ But I can't even get an answer to that from the damned secretary.

Feeling very put-out and more than a little... trapped, I decide to go visit my family again. Hopefully I can catch Soris this time. Jowan and Imara both protest my going alone when they find out my plans, and having learned from my encounter on the way home last time, I let Imara and a guardsman come along.

"You know it'll probably be boring for you and the elves probably won't be exactly _cordial,_ right?" I warn.

"Yes, m'lady," Imara replies with a nod, a move the solidly built guardsman-Daniel, he introduces himself-mimics. "I'm used to bein' invisible at best and openly mocked at worst," she elaborates.

I raise an eyebrow as we leave the palace. "Oh, really? Sounds like there's a story behind that..."

"My mother was the mistress of a nobleman-an arl, I think, though she never would tell me for certain-who threw her out when she got pregnant, told he never wanted to see her again. It's hard t' keep a story like that from makin' the rounds, no matter how careful you are who to trust with it."

"Ah." It's my turn to nod with understanding. The children of mistresses make out scarely better than beggers or elves in this city.

"It's made me stronger, m'lady. No need to give it another thought," she insists with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"I can attest to that, m'lady," Daniel agrees with a chuckle. Backbone a' steel and a heart of gold it's given her."

"Oh, shut it, Dan," Imara mutters, flicking her wrist as if to brush away his tongue in cheek compliment. She still blushes a little, and I have to wonder what history lies between these two.

"Alright, come on you two. I'd like to go visit my family now..." I prod teasingly, heading in the direction of the Alienage.

Imara curtsies and Daniel salutes as they chorus, "As you wish, m'lady."

**oOo**

The guard at the Alienage gate is the same one as last time, and I wonder if this is because he gets horribly long shifts or I just happened to come on days he's on duty.

"Good day, ser," I call out with a friendly smile. "Time for another family visit."

"I see you're bein' slightly more sensible this time, you crazy woman," he returns, nodding at my companions. "G'day, Dan."

"Arin," he nods back.

"I'm playing it safe at the request of a friend," I explain, my smile quirking towards wry.

"Good friend," Arin grunts as he opens the gate. "Maybe you should listen to 'em more."

"Oh, I'm working on it, trust me," I laugh, waiting until the gate's risen high enough for the humans to follow me. It takes an awful lot of self-restraint, because I want to see my family-Soris especially- _so badly_. But I manage somehow, tapping my fingers against my leg and thanking the Maker that both Daniel and Imara are low end of average height for humans; not short, but not tall either.

I get another lesson in patience once the gate's finally up; they don't know where my father's house is, so I have to _walk_-rather than run pell-mell-through the curving paths in order to not lose them. Anti-human sentiments are up right now, and I'd rather not be even indirectly responsible for any incidents.

I knock on the door once we finally reach my father's house, hoping all three of the people I want to see are here right now. And I get my wish. Shianni's the one who opens the door, but I can see my fahter and Soris behind her.

"Cousin, you _really _need to give us some warning next time," Shianni laighs as she folds me inot a hug. "So we can actually plan a decent meal."

"Sure, and tell the whole Alienage I'm back," I return. "I'm going to suffer enough attention at the queen's wedding, Shianni. I just want a simple family visit."

"Is that why you brought company?" she teases, nodding towards Daniel and Imara, who are both standing respectfully silent just inside the door.

I shake my head. "My trip back to the palace last time was, um, less than uneventful. One of my friends is a worrywart by nature, so to keep him happy, I brought along protection."

"Your friend sounds like a smart man," Fathher comments, rising from the table to come hug me as well. "I'd like to meet him some day," he hints.

"Maybe next time I visit," I half-promise, grunting a little as he hugs me tight. When he releases me, I turn to my other cousin. "Soris, it's good to see you. Glad you haven't gotten yourself killed or anything," I rib as I embrace him.

He's lost weight, I notice immediately. Soris has always been a prime example of the stereotypical lean elf; his build bordering on slender and less muscular than, say, Zevran, but not _skinny_ by a long shot. But now, as my arms wrap around him, I can almost feel the outline of his shoulder blades, and when our movements tug his shirt askew, I can see the outline of his collarbone under the skin. Apparently, the traveling life was not kind to him.

But I push all those thoughts out of my mind before we pull back enough he could read it in my eyes and simply ask, "How've you been?"

"Not wonderful, but considering I could be rotting in a dungeon right now, not terrible, either, Rahna," he replies, letting his arms fall back to his sides. "How 'bout you?"

"Oh, I've been alright," I answer with a dismissive wave of my hand. "Killing darkspawn, taking risks most would consider insane and somehow coming out okay... You now, the usual. But I am curious about what you've been up to. Shianni said you went looking for Valora?"

"Probably heavily editorialized regarding how I'm wasting my life looking for someone who might very well be dead and she hates that I'm killing myself over something futile, right?" he adds, glancing at the redhead.

She shrugs. "That's my opinion and I'm not apologizing for it, Soris."

"You wouldn't be you if you did," he replies wearily before looking back at me. "But I can't give up until I've tried everything possible to get her back."

"I think stubbornness must run in the family," I chuckle, moving forward to join them at the table.

"You two are welcome to sit down as well," my father comments to Daniel and Imara.

"I'm fine here, thank you," Daniel replies, remaining by the door, but Imara joins us without hesitation.

"You'll have to excuse him, ser, Dan's a guard down to the marrow in his bones," she explains, sitting between me and Soris in the only empty chair remaining at the table.

"Did you come along as protection, too?" Shianni asks, eyeing the woman with disbelief bordering on suspicion.

She laughs. "Oh, no, no, no. The only knives I've ever held have been for cookin' and I dunno if I could intentionally kill someone. I came along for the reasonin' a bigger group than just two is less likely to be attacked."

"That makes sense," Soris agrees, and she flashes him a smile.

"You go on and have your chat, then. Just pretend like I'm not even here..." Imara folds her hands in her lap and sits quietly as I turn my attention back to interrogating Soris.

"So, what kind of leads have you followed?"

He shrugs. "Anything and everything I come across." He snorts a wry half-laugh. "Which hasn't been much, if I'm honest. The Tevinters didn't ask for names to catalogue the elves they took as slaves. What little I have managed to find has all petered out."

"Three trips to the Imperium he's made, Rahna," Shianni adds. "Always coming back with nothing to show for it. Oh, unless bruises, the occasional busted rib, and dark circles under his eyes count."

"Shianni..." Soris sighs. "Just because some ship captains are... reluctant to talk to elves doesn't mean I should give up."

"Reluc-" Shianni sighs in frustration. "Soris, the one beat you half to death! You told me that yourself!"

"And there are guards here that'll do the same," he shoots back.

_Soris grew a backbone in the last year or so..._ I can't help but smirk a little. A couple years ago, he never would have dreamed of arguing with Shianni like this. Valora's been good for him in more ways than one, it seems. "Alright, alright, can you two calm down? Please?"

"Sorry," Soris mutters, and Shianni shrugs an agreement. "This is a sore spot for the two of us right now.."

"I noticed," I comment dryly. "I've never seen you get so worked up over something in your life."

"She's my _wife_, Rahna," he reminds me. "That can bring out a man's protective nature like nothing else. And I..." he sighs. "I'm fairly certain I'd grown to love her by the time she was taken. Maybe not the way you and your knight in shining armor loved each other, but-"

"I get it," I cut him off. _I really don't need to be dwelling on that, thanks. _My mind flashes to the lost cloak and I fight back a pang of regret.

"You know, I almost envy you," he comments slowly.

My eyebrows shoot up almost to my hairline. "You _**envy**__ me_?! Dead lover, phenomenal responsibilities and all?"

"I envy you that you _know_." That note of weariness is back in his voice. "Even having lost him, you at least know for certain. I don't."

"Ah." That does make sense, if I think about it. "I'll... grant you the point. Now, can we find something happier to discuss? I know I'm the one who asked about Valora, and I was interested and all, but I don't want kidnapped wives and dead lovers to be all we talk about."

"Heh. Understandable, and I agree," Soris nods, chuckling a little. "Did Shianni tell you about her new beau?"

"He's not-" Shianni cuts off her outburst and glares at Soris, but her face has gone red enough to rival her hair.

"Nooo, she didn't mention anything of the sort last time." My reply is aimed at Soris, but my eyes are fixed firmly on the now-squirming Shianni. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Well, 'lucky' depends on your point of view..." Soris teases, and Shianni'sglare intensifies.

"I. Will. Kill you," she warns, and he raises his hands in surrender.

"Fine, fine."

"So, are you gonna _tell me_?" I hint.

"Alarith," Soris smirks, and Shianni buries her head in her hands.

"I keep telling you; he's _not_ my beau," she protests. "I've just been helping around his store."

"Mm-hm." Soris does _not_ sound convinced.

"Soris, between the Tevinters, Howe's purge, and the bloody huge _battle_, that place was a wreck. Alarith doesn't have any family, or any helpers, or _anything_. I'm just helping him put the place back together. Get things in order. He's always been good to our families; I'm just... returning the favor." She snorts. "'Course, everything would be easier if we could get some _help_. Either the queen's blind, or she's ignoring us."

I feel a smile curve my lips as I suggest, "Then go tell her what you need. Maybe wait until after her wedding, when she has less going on."

"But... that would be the hahren's job..." she protests, but weakly.

"Has a new one been named?" I ask.

Father shrugs. "I've been unofficially filling the role, but only for internal issues. I'm too old to travel to court. I don't have the fire to make them listen."

"Someone has to do it," Shianni mutters.

"Beggin' your pardon, but why couldn't you do it?" Imara's been so quiet, we've practically forgotten she's here.

Shianni gapes a bit at the suggestion. "I... Me? As the _Elder_?" To her credit, she considers it.

"You're definitely outspoken enough to get our problems noticed," Soris comments wryly. I feel the brush of wind under the table as she kicks him in the shin. "Ow! It's _true_!" he points out, reaching down to rub his new bruise.

"Still, you could've phrased it better," she grumbles.

"I think you'd make a good Elder, Shianni," I comment. "You're not shy about stating the truth, you're tenacious as the Void once you get set on an idea, and you're excellent at dodging subject you don't wanna talk about."

"Huh?" She quirks an eyebrow at me. "You lost me, Rahna."

"The way you just _effortlessly_ shifted the conversation away from the nature of your relationship with Alarith and onto the condition of the Alienage like that. I've spent enough time around politicians to know, you'd more than hold your own."

"I... don't know whether to kick you or thank you," she mutters. "You caught that?"

"Like I said, I've spent enough time around politicians..." I grin at her. "Just because I loathe politics with every cell of my body doesn't mean I didn't pick up a few things."

"I'll say you did..." she teases. Our conversation shifts to more mundane topics after that, a change that makes all of us happy, though I can tell Shianni's still mulling over the idea of being the Alienage's Elder.

Finally, as the light streaming in the front windows starts to dim, I reluctantly say my goodbyes, and Daniel, Imara and I take our leave. The humans are both silent as we retrace our steps to the gate. It's not until Arin's let us out and the wooden slats have ground back to their locked position that Imara speaks.

"You're very lucky t' have a family like that, m'lady," she says softly.

I nod. "I know. Thank you."

The rest of the walk is made in silence. Daniel sticks by the two of us until we're at the palace's front gates. It's only then that he salutes and goes to report back to his captain. I'm lost in thought as I wind my way back through the hallways to my room, and Imara is respectfully silent.

"I'll not be needing anything else tonight, Imara," I tell her as we reach the doors of the suite. "You could go to bed if you like."

She smiles. "Thank you, m'lady. I... think I'll do that." She drops a curtsy and leaves.

I can't say I'm surprised when I find Jowan sitting on the couch reading a book. "Waiting up for me?" I tease.

He looks up and smiles sheepishly. "Yes and no... It's a good book. But I did want to make sure you got back alright."

I chuckle and turn a slow circle. "I'm fine. See? Just tired. And I'm going to take care of _that_ right now. So g'night, see you in the morning, all that lovely stuff."

He laughs. "Same to you."

"Don't stay up too late reading that book," I caution, reaching my door and leaning one shoulder against the wood.

"Goodnight, Rahna." He makes a show of ignoring me and returning his attention to the book, but I can see him smiling as I push my door open and turn in for the night.

_A/N: So apparently Jowan's not the only one who's grown a spine. I dunno who to thank/blame for Soris getting a bit braver. I guess just Life in general? *shrugs* He sure did a good job holding his own against Shianni. And he just... __**did that**__ when I was writing. I made no conscious decision to have Soris be tougher or anything. Oh, my muses. :3 Daniel is sort of based off my brother, who is away at boot camp right now, and I miss him like whoa. So being a writer, I just stuck him in as a cameo. Problem solved! 8D_


	92. I Remember

92. I Remember

It's absolutely blissful getting to sleep in as late as I want. Which, today at least, winds up being a good bit later than usual for me. I can't hold back a chuckle when I make it out of my room and see Jowan's still asleep. Or at, at least, I assume that's why his door's still closed. Nathaniel catches the direction of my gaze and nods confirmation.

"He hasn't gotten up yet," the archer informs me with a smile.

"Heh, well, that's normal..." I reply, shifting my attention to the table. "So, what've we got for breakfast?"

There's a variety of delicious-looking options, so I load up a plate and eat, finding enough room to go back for seconds. Lacking anything better to do with my time, I pull out a deck of cards and challenge Nathaniel to a game of Wicked Grace.

"You sure, Commander?" he double-checks, smirking slightly as he watches me fidget with the deck.

"Just because you can whup my arse at Diamondback does not mean the same will be true with Wicked Grace," I protest, and his smirk widens. "Shut up and play."

"As you command," he chuckles, sitting down across from me and picking up the cards I deal him.

**oOo**

He whups my arse. I'm almost glad when a knock on the door interrupts our fifth hand, because it's a way out without looking like a quitter.

"I'll get that," I interject hastily as Nathaniel starts to move, dropping my cards facedown on the table. I walk to the door, brushing a hand over my hair to make sure it's not doing anything crazy, since I haven't brushed it this morning. Satisfied that it's behaving, I tuck some loose strands behind my ear and open the door.

A servant stands in the hallway, hands clasped behind his back as he waits for the door to open. Now that I've done so, he bows respectfully. "Message for you from Queen Anora, Commander, ser. She begs your understanding in the delay concerning your meeting, but is now ready to speak with you."

I quirk an eyebrow at the phrasing. I can't picture Anora begging for anything, and I decide it's probably just political terminology at work as I nod to the man. "Right, sure. Let me get on shoes and tie back my hair, and I'll be ready to go."

"Of course, my lady." He bows. "I'll wait here for you."

"Very well. Out in a second..." I dash for my bedroom and grab my boots, as well as the lengths of twine I use to pull back my hair. I sit on the couch and explain the state of things to Nathaniel as I pull on my boots. "You'll fill Jowan in if he gets up before I'm back?"

He nods. "Of course, Rahna." A smirk tugs at his lips. "Only you could weasel out of losing a card game by meeting with the bloody queen..."

I grin at him as I tie back my hair in its customary pigtails. "I'm special like that. Be happy with your four wins and behave y'self while I'm gone."

"I'll try," Nathaniel chuckles. "Good luck with your meeting."

"Thanks, I'll probably need it..." I snort, giving him a parting wave as I join the servant in the hallway and tug the door shut behind me.

**oOo**

"Commander, thank you for coming on such short notice," Anora greets me cordially, motioning for me to take a seat in one of the richly carved chairs in her study. "My life has been consumed by wedding arrangements these past few days, and I've not had sufficient free time to dedicate to this meeting before now."

I give her a cautious but understanding smile. "I know how it is, Your Majesty, believe me."

"That is good to hear," she smiles back. "Well, since even today promises to be rather full as soon as it receives my attention, I suppose I'll get right to business."

"My overly curious nature thanks you for that, Your Majesty," I reply with a genuine smile of my own.

"As I'm sure you are aware, Commander, the one year anniversary of the Battle ofDenerim is not far off."

My head fills with images of rubble and blood and chaos, accented by lingering screams and the smell of burning flesh, as I nod and simply say, "I remember."

"Well, it has been proposed-and I think it a good idea-that we hold a celebration to commemorate the occasion, remember those whose lives were lost. And I thought, given your role in ending the Blight, and what the Grey Wardens sacrificed to accomplish that goal... Perhaps you could put in an appearence at such an event?" I must be looking at her like she has three heads, because she hastens to add, "You wouldn't have to make a speech or anything like that. Merely your presence would speak volumes to the Fereldan people."

I bite my lip. "This anniversary... it's not for more than two months. If I were to say yes, would you expect me to stay in Denerim until then?"

"Of course not, Commander," Anora assures me. "Though given the amount of time it takes to travel between Denerim and Amaranthine, would it truly be worthwhile to make such a journey?"

"That's what concerns me," I mutter, thinking of Sigrun. I'm almost more worried what the toll of leaving her 'responsible' for Zimri and Rolan migh be than how hard I might find it to spend That Day in the most public situation I can imagine. I'd _planned_ to lock myself in my room and spend it reminiscing until Anders or Jowan or whomever made me stop and dragged me out of my shell. This would be _healthier_, by a long shot; focusing on the good accomplished by my losing Alistair rather than on the mere fact I lost him. "I'll tell you what, You Majesty; I will come to this commemoration ceremony thing-" _Much more willingly than I did the last one, even..._ "-But I'll have to think on it and let you know whether I'll be staying or returning to Amaranthine in between the wedding and this. I have to talk to Nathaniel and Jowan, see what they want to do before I set anything in stone."

Anora nods graciously. "Of course, Commander. I understand." She hesitates for a moment. "There was one other thing..."

_Of course there is,_ I grumble to myself. "What would that be?"

"At the end of the Blight, following my coronation, you told me all you wanted as boon was that the sacrifices of the Grey Wardens not be forgotten."

"And you promised a monument dedicated to all the Grey Wardens who fell defeating the Blight," I finish for her with a nod. "I remember." _Though I almost wish I didn't..._

"Almost immediately after you left, I commissioned some of the finest stonecarvers in the kingdom to work on such a monument." She folds her hands on her ornate desk. "They tell me it should be finished in time to unveil it at this anniversary celebration."

"Well, that's excellent timing, but what's it got to do with me?" I ask, mildly confused.

"I wanted to give you the chance to see it before the public unveiling; approve the design."

I can't help but snort. "And what, if I don't like it, you'll apologize to the carvers for wasting their time and have them make another one?"

Anora's lips press together in a thin smile. "They _are_ being paid-and quite handsomely-for this task, Commander. And let's just say I have every confidence the design will win your approval."

"Now I'm curious," I mutter, rolling my eyes and smiling wryly. "What makes you so confident?"

"I did my research well, Commander," is her simple reply. "So, would you like an advanced look at the statue?"

I nod. "You have sufficiently aroused my curiosity, Your Majesty. When would be a good time?"

Her brow wrinkles ever so slightly in thought. "I'll have to check with the man in charge, see what works for them. And did you want to go alone or would it be alright if I came as well? I've not had a chance to see their progress for some time and would very much like to remedy that. But I would have to fit it in between wedding details, and as that grows closer, this will get more difficult."

"Since it's probably only fair you get to come along, why don't we just wait until after the wedding?" I suggest. "I'm sure you and Hayden-sorry, Ser Cousland-will have a honeymoon and all, but I can wait until you get back."

"That's... very understanding of you," Anora murmurs, arching one eyebrow. "I'll see what I can work out and let you know. How does that sound?"

"Fair," I nod in agreement. "You know where to find me, after all."

She smiles faintly. "That I do. Thank you for your time, Commander."

"You're welcome, Your Majesty." _Thank you for finding time to squeeze me in..._ "If there's nothing else...?"

"No. You may go."

"Thank you. I'll get back to you soon with my plans," I promise as I leave her study. My head is spinning as I make my way back to my room. This is just too much. While I am grateful Anora wasn't just telling me what I wanted to hear a year ago, and she's actually had people working on some sort of monument, part of me is starting to worry if I can handle spending such an anniversary surrounded by people who will all be fixated with celebrating the marked end of the Blight, and not thinking about what said end cost some of us.

_I don't know if I could take watching them belittle your sacrifice, Alistair. Not again..._ I confess silently, remembering how the last one of these celebrations unfolded; people more concerned with honoring me and celebrating the fact they weren't dead than bothering with the little detail that the man who was the_ reason _they were still alive was dead and burned. _People like their heroes alive._

I shake my head. _You're doing it again, Rahna. No melancholy. Sweet Andraste, you're worse than Jowan._ The corners of my mouth quirk at the wry self-remonstrance as I wonder what he'd have to say about being the bar by which I measure if I'm angsting too much. _Probably roll his eyes and yank on my pigtails_, I decide with a smirk as I reach the door to my room.

**oOo**

In true _Speak of the devil_ fashion, the first sight to greet me upon reentering the rooms is a certain dark-haired mage who was just on my mind. Jowan looks like the very definition of _rough night_; elbow propped against the table as if that's the only thing keeping him even sort of vertical, barefoot, hair a mess, and dark circles hanging under his eyes. He holds up a finger in a cautionary gesture when he sees me.

"If you say 'Morning sleepyhead', I will not be responsible for my actions," he warns around a yawn.

"I was actually thinking of asking if you had a rough night, but the answer to that is sort of obvious," I reply with a sympathetic smile as I sit at the table next to him, wondering how long he's been up. "Must've been a real doozy to have you looking like death warmed over."

"Mmm," he grunts, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the heel of his free hand. "Jus' bad dreams. An' I haven't been up long... It'll get better...Where've you been?"

"Anora finally found time to see me," I explain, biting back a chuckle as I reach over and brush tangled wisps of black hair out of his face. "About these dreams..."

"Don't, Rahna." Jowan winces as the words come out sharp enough to be more an order than a request. "Just please don't."

_Wow, somebody's grumpy today..._ Knowing how hard waking up can be for him on a good day, however, I simply nod and take his mildly bad mood in stride. "Okay. I won't," I promise, reaching to pluck an apple from the bowl in the center of the table.

"So, what did the queen want with you?" Nathaniel asks.

I fill them in. "And, I mean, given that I'm pretty much the sole reason she even agreed to do something in memorial of those who died-Grey Wardens in particular-I should go."

Nathaniel fixes me witha bemused smile. "Sigrun is going to kill you."

I wince. "I know. I wish there was some way to avoid it, but the more I think about things, the more I think it would work better to just stay here the two months in between; especially if I'm going to be checking in on this monument somewhere in the middle. But I wanted to ask you two, as well. Since if I stay, either you have to go back just the two of you, or stay with me. Sooo..." I let it trail off and raise an eyebrow at them.

Jowan shrugs, running his hands through his hair. "Whatever you do, I'm with you, Rahna."

"Heh. Should I have waited for you to be more awake so you actually care?" I tease.

"My answer's not gonna change," he mumbles around another yawn, wincing as his fingers snag on a myriad of knots.

I huff in exasperation, even though part of me just knew he was going to say something like that. "What about you, Nate?"

"Pretty much the same as Jowan, actually," the archer replies with an almost apologetic smile.

"I don't believe you two..." I grumble. "What about Vi?"

He shrugs. "I would like the chance to go... home and visit her," Nathaniel admits. "But perhaps a separation like this is good. After all, should our relationship go anywhere, I"m fairly certain there would be times when I'll be gone for long periods of time. If she's still interested when we get back, best she knows what she'd be getting herself into."

"How in the blazes are you so damned analytical about this?" I laugh.

Another shrug. "I just am."

I'd give him grief about that not being a _real_ answer, but I know it's true; it's second nature for him to think things through as thoroughly as he can. "Right. So now I get to write Sigrun and tell her we're going to be a good three months later getting back than I thought we would be..."

"Hmm. Good luck with that." Nathaniel gives my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

"Heh. I'll need it more when we get back... _That's_ when I'll have to deal with her wrath," I shoot back, pushing away from the table.

"An excellent point, Commander."

I make a face at him as I head for my room to figure out how to tell Sigrun what we're doing. _This is going to be fun..._

_A/N: How horrid is it that I think grumpy!Jowan would be adorable? XD Because seriously, the way I'm picturing him at the end of this chapter, I'm thinking he'd be really adorable even when grumpy. This may simply be because I'm a Jowan fangirl, but still. *cough* Moving on... _

_And now I have to design this monument, so when Rahna finally sees it, I can describe what it looks like. I have some ideas, I just need to play around with them and figure out what's going to work best._


	93. Preparations

93. Preparations

"You do realize worrying like this isn't going to help you at all, right?" Nathaniel's biting back a chuckle as he asks, and I glare at him.

"Have you ever _seen_ me in the midst of a full -blown panic attack?" I demand, playing nervously with the end of one pigtail. "The real bad ones tend to hit in big crowds, the type that make you feel claustrophobic. Like there's going to be tomorrow. Forgive if I'm a little... concerned about how this might go."

"Rahna." He moves to stand in front of me, cutting short the umpteenth loop I was pacing and resting his hands on my shoulders to make me stop. "_You_ are not the one getting married tomorrow, for starters. And you've been talking like you're doing better with crowds. I'm confused what you have to be nervous _about_."

"But-"

"_And _you'll have me and Jowan with you," he points out. "I think we have a lot more to worry about than you do."

"He's right, you know," Jowan chips in, not even looking up from the book he's reading.

"No one asked you," I grumble, but I do know they're both right. Honestly, I'm not sure myself why I'm so nervous about this wedding. Probably just anticipating the moment someone figures out who I am and gossip starts making the rounds. So I tell them as much. "And you _know_ soon as the gossip starts, there'll be a line of men who want to dance with me."

"So? Most people would not consider that a bad thing, especially considering you know how to dance now," Nathaniel replies.

"Nate, how long do you have to know me b'fore you realize I'm not most people?" I mutter darkly. "B'sides, what if one of them is horrible?"

"What, a horrible dancer or horrible company?" The archer's once again trying not to laugh at my near-panic.

"Either one," I shoot back flopping on the couch next to Jowan. He barely gets his feet out of the way before I sit on them.

"Then I'll cut in and rescue you," Nathaniel promises with a smile. "Why are you worrying about this all of a sudden?"

"I _don't know_; I just _said_ that," I groan, slouching in despair.

Jowan lowers his book to shoot me a comforting smile and nudges my hip with one foot. "Then stop worrying."

"Heh, listen to the pot calling the kettle black," I glower at him playfully, toying with the idea of tickling his foot if he tries that again. He's right, of course, it's just a matter of easier said than done. I don't really _worry_ about much, and I get fixated like this on even less, but when I do, I _**really worry**_.

"I know, I know," he retorts. "It's still _true_."

"Well, yeah. And if you've discovered a way to just make yourself stop worrying about something, I'd _love_ to hear it," I snark.

"Nope. Not yet, at least."

I growl in semi-frustration and let myself sink lower on the couch. It's not helping matters that the bloody seamstress still needs to "put a few finishing touches" on my dress. It normally wouldn't bother me so much that I don't have it yet, but now it's one more detail that's not set. _I'm sure it'll all work out,_ I assure myself, trying to make me believe it.

I'm not having much luck.

**oOo**

The next day dawns as gorgeous as any bride could wish. It reminds me of my own wedding day, I can't help but think as I glance out the window at the fluffy clouds. Though I'm fairly certain Anora's wedding will fare better than my own.

My bed is comfy, and there's no particular hurry for me to get up, so I snuggle into its depths and just enjoy the the solitude. Until a knock on the door shatters the quiet.

"Who is it?" My question is a mere formality; only a handful of people would be knocking on my door, and I'd grant entry to all of them.

"It's Imara, m'lady, " comes the prompt reply. "The seamstress is finished with your dress and thought you'd want to try it on."

"Huh, damn right I do," I mumble under my breath. Then, louder, "Be right there..." I scramble out of bed, running my fingers through my hair to ensure I don't have any cowlicky bits sticking up at weird angles. The stone floor is cold and I flinch a bit at my first steps on its surface. When I open the door, Imara stands there alone, a neat bundle in hand that I assume must be the dress. I raise an eyebrow at the fact she's by herself.

"I know how to do alterations, if needed, m'lady," she hurries to explain. "But the seamstress seemed pretty sure she got the measurements right."

"Well, alright then. Let's see this dress." I close the door behind her as she steps into the room.

"Of course, m'lady." Imara pulls back the cloth swathed around the dress to keep it safe and clean, draping the protective covering over the foot of my bed. She then unfolds the dress, which is made of a rich silk in the most beautiful shade of deep blue I've ever seen. The small improvements the seamstress made to Jowan's original sketched idea have been integrated flawlessly, and I have to admit, this dress is gorgeous.

All that comes out of my mouth, however, is a hushed, "Oh, Maker..."

"Is that good or bad?" Imara asks, looking mildly concerned.

"Good," I assure her. "I'm not one for dresses, but this one... This one I may tolerate."

She smiles. "Want to try it on then? Make sure it fits?"

I grin at her. "Considering I need it for later today, I suppose I'd better." It's the work of a moment to strip off the oversized tunic I use as a nightshirt and throw it on the bed.

Imara very carefully gathers the fabric of the dress and slips it over my head, letting it fall and flow around me. The length is perfect; the hem just brushing the floor. I twist it just a little to get things to sit straight before looking in the mirror.

To my surprise, I actually really like what I see. The square neckline is perfect, cut wide enough to show off my Warden's Oath as well as the crack-laced amulet that was Alistair's while still being modest enough I won't blush. I wish it hid the scar along my collarbone a little better, but it can't be helped. The slight bits of pale blue frill that edge the neckline also divide the bodice neatly in half, curving off to either side high enough to mark an empire-style waistline. The deep blue fabric falls freely below that, shimmering and swaying as I move, clinging to my hips-such as they are-in such a way I can't help but feel more feminine than usual.

The sleeves also help with that feeling. The upper part is made of the deep blue silk and ever-so-slightly puffed, the lower edge trimmed in frill to match the neckline decoration. Below this trim hangs diaphonous pale blue material that curls around my biceps much like a continuation of the sleeves before splitting at my elbow and trailing down almost to the hemline of the dress. Given my slender-alright,_ skinny_-build, combined with elven features, the overall effect is somewhat ethereal and far prettier than I would have ever thought I could look. The only thing keeping me from being 'a vision of elven perfection' or whatever is my scar and the missing tip of my left ear. I've never been so grateful for war wounds in my life.

"You are... quite stunning, m'lady," Imara comments as she smooths a portion of the neckline that had twisted under.

"It's not bad," I admit, gingerly running my hands over the front of the dress, feeling the fabric snag on callouses once or twice. "She did an excellent job." _Jowan's design wasn't bad, either..._

"Now we just have to figure something to do with your hair." Her fingers gently run through the snarled mess hanging around my shoulders. I haven't been really paying attention and am mildly surprised at how long it's gotten.

"Heh. I suggest we start with brushing it," I offer with a laugh, which fades into a wince as Imara's slender fingers find a particularly wicked rat's nest. "Ow!"

"Sorry, m'lady. How long's it been since you brushed your hair?" She's reaching for the hairbrush as she asks.

I shrug. "A day? Maybe two..."

"Ah. This is goin' to hurt a bit then." She hesitates. "Maybe you should take off the dress first? Just to be safe."

I nod. "Good plan. I still need to eat breakfast, and I don't want anything happening to that before this afternoon." It's the work of a moment to trade the gorgeous dress for my oversized tunic, and then I sit myself in the chair by the vanity and submit to a long past due hair brushing.

By the time Imara finishes, my hair is shining and smooth, completely free of knots.

"I'm half tempted to just leave it like this," I murmur as I look at my reflection and twirl a lock of hair around one finger.

"Oh, don't do that," Imara protests, then bites her lip. "Beg pardon, m'lady, you do have lovely hair. I just think it would be a good idea to do somethin' with it, even if it's nothin' too fancy, you know?"

"Imara, I just said I was half tempted," I laugh. "I do plan on doing something with it, I just haven't figured out _what _yet." My stomach lets out a complaining growl. "Maybe I should eat something while I think on that?"

"That sounds like a good idea, m'lady," Imara replies with a smile.

So I do exactly that.

**oOo**

Eating breakfast doesn't take long at all. Of course, part of that may be due to the way I'm bolting down food like I haven't eaten in a week or more.

"Rahna, you know the wedding doesn't start for almost five hours," Nathaniel chuckles, his tone one of gentle teasing. "You don't have to eat so fast. I can't imagine it would take you anywhere near that long to get ready."

"Ha, that's what you think," I mutter around a mouthful of sweet roll. "After I finish eating, I have to make sure Jowan gets up. _That's_ the part I'm worried about taking too long."

"I see. Still, what's the longest it's ever taken you to get him up?"

I swallow and contemplate that for a second. "There was one time that all attempts combined took almost an hour to finally get him out of bed."

"Wow."

I laugh as I reach for more food. "Yes, wow. 'Course, that was after a night where he didn't get much sleep and I _was_ waking him up kinda earlier than usual..."

"So the truth come out."

"Shut up!" I lightly kick his shin under the table. "And even if that was a one time thing, he still takes a while to get up, and I don't particularly want to be bouncing on the bed and whacking him with a pillow while wearing that damned dress."

"You have a point there," Nathaniel concedes. "But even supposing it takes you twenty minutes to get Jowan awake and an hour-being generous-to get ready yourself, you still have plenty of time. So you can slow down."

I sigh. "Fine. If it'll make you happy..." I force myself to slow down. Even so, my breakfast is completely consumed in short order. "Now for the fun part..." I mumble under my breath, pushing back my chair and heading for Jowan's room.

**oOo**

Today winds up being about average. Meaning it involves yelling, poking, cajoling, and finally a very exasperated me resorting to that lovely ticklish spot on Jowan's side. As always, it works like a charm. He yelps and rolls over, yanking my hand away.

"_**Rahna!**_"

I giggle as I pull my wrist free. "I love how that always works."

Jowan lets out a noise that sounds torn between a growl and a moan. "Damn, I'm gonna _kill_ Miri for tellin' you about that."

"Oh, don't do _that_," I grin impishly as I sit back on my heels. "You'd just be out a friend, and I'd still know your weak spot. What would the point be?"

He scrubs sleep out of his eyes with the heel of one hand, using the other to drag his hair back from his face. "Eh, true. My revenge will have to take some other form, I suppose..."

"What, you'd rather just sleep through the wedding and everything?"

He shoots me an incredulous look. "Wouldn't you?"

I shrug. "The reception will have food. I like food."

Jowan rolls his eyes and throws one of his pillows at me. "You're horrible."

I dodge the fluffy projectile and smirk at him. "And you're bloody hard to wake up. _But,_ now that I've succeeded, time to get out of bed, and eat and get dressed and all that lovely stuff."

He groans and flops back down, burying his head under the remaining pillow. "Five more minutes?"

"Sweet Maker, _NO._ I know you; five minutes will snowball into an hour before I can say _Andraste's knickerweasels_. C'mon. Up." I scramble off the edge of his bed and tug on his hand.

He lets out another mock-groan as he complies, at least as far as sitting up. "Fine, fine. 'M comin'."

"Good boy," I tease, which earns me a glare. "I need to go get ready, I guess. So I'll see _you_ later."

"Mm-hm..." he mumbles distractedly, gathering his hair back in its typical low ponytail. I have to admit, I'm a little envious of how easy he and Nathaniel are going to have it getting ready for this wedding. But I try to push thoughts like that from my mind as I return to my room so Imara can work some magic on my hair.

After all, who wants to be gloomy at a wedding?

_A/N: Whew, finally done. This one fought quite a bit. Mostly because I was worried about both over- and under-detailing the dress. I want y'all to know what it looks like, but I didn't want to get to info-dump there. I'm still not sure if I succeeded entirely in either of my purposes with that. :I But the rest of the darn thing fought me, too. It originally stopped with Rahna and Nate's conversation, right before she went to wake Jowan up, simply because I could not for the life of me get any more out of the Rahna-muse. But then, Monday morning she just got all chattery again, like nothing was amiss. I took it. So, next chapter will have the wedding, and maybe some of the fun stuff I have planned for after. :3 _


	94. Rescue

94. Rescue

Nathaniel's right; it doesn't take me long at all to get ready for the wedding. There's really just letting Imara do something with my hair. And since I came up blank on anything in particular, I leave it up to her to do what she thinks will look best. She only hesitates a moment, biting her lip in thought, before nodding decisively and reaching for the brush.

She's the perfect balance of fast and gentle, and soon enough she's pulled back the side of my hair in twin reverse-Orlesian plaits that meet and merge in the center of my skull. Imara deftly pinches the strands of the braid together with one hand.

"Could you pass me that ribbon, m'lady?" she asks, nodding toward a narrow length the same pale blue as the trim on my dress.

"Sure." I fight the urge to nod, fairly sure that would ruin the work she's done so far, and hand over the ribbon in question.

"Thank you." She smoothly wraps it around the braid a couple times with her free hand before pulling it tight and leaving the long ends trailing down my back. "There. Hard part's done," she smiles, taking a moment to brush her bangs out of her eyes. "The rest should just take a minute."

And it does. The rest of the work involved in her choice for my hair is simply gathering everything loose, twisting it into a messy semblence of a bun, and tying it off with a few passes of the remaining ribbon. Two neat little bits of pale blue hang down against the back of my neck, barely visible beneath the wispy bits hanging free of my hairstyle.

"I'm thoroughly impressed," I grin at her in the mirror. Logically speaking, with the almost casually messy gathering job, this _shouldn't_ look good. But I can see for myself it _does_.

"Wait 'til you have the dress on, m'lady," Imara grins back, looking downright proud of herself-only fair under the circumstances.

"That'll be in about two minutes," I laugh, gingerly working off the oversized tunic so as to not mess up her hard work. By the time I have it off, she's ready with the dress, and lowers it over my head with equal care. Once the blue silk is hanging properly and everything is essentially as perfect as it's going to get, I look again. Both eyebrows shoot up in surprise when I see myself. "Oh, I am so not going unnoticed..."

Imara bites back a chuckle at my gloomy tone. "I wouldn't be so hasty to consider that a bad thing, m'lady. You are very pretty. Moreso than some of the noblewomen who will be in attendance."

"Thanks." I grin at my reflection and admire her job on my hair one more time. "It's partially due to your work on my hair. Where'd you learn to do that?"

She shrugs. "Between my mother and some of the things I've seen various members of the court do over the past year, I picked up enough bits and pieces to teach myself a lot."

"Wait, this is _original_?"

"I dunno if I'm the only one to ever do it, m'lady," she explains. "But I've never seen anyone in the Fereldan court wear their hair like that."

I grin. "I like it even more now."

Imara bobs a curtsy. "You're too kind. Ready to see what your friends think?"

"Oh, Maker..." I take a deep breath and brace myself for the teasing comments about me wearing a dress. "I suppose I am." _Let's get this over with..._

**oOo**

It goes pretty much as I was expecting. Meaning raised eyebrows and general looks of surprise. Nathaniel even whistles, short and low, but still enough to make me blush.

"Oh, stop, Nate," I protest, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly.

"Apologies, Commander." He's _smirking_, ever so slightly, even as the words leave his mouth. "But you are quite lovely. I feel obliged to warn you I may cut in on your dance partners even if you don't find them horrible."

I laugh at that. "I might even let you. You clean up well enough."

And that's the truth; Jowan in the archon robes I've adjusted to by now, but my internal reaction to seeing Nathaniel dressed up for this occasion isn't all that different than his reaction to me. Meaning he looks pretty damn good himself. And for a man who likes to blend with the shadows, he's certainly dressed to stand out, relatively speaking. While both Jowan and I are wearing blue, Nate opted for a dark red jerkin over a white shirt, his dark grey trousers disappearing inside freshly polished-but obviously well-loved-black boots. I'm thinking he'll have more than a few of the women hoping and praying for his attention by the time we get to the reception part of the afternoon.

Nathaniel's smirk widens at my comment, but he simply replies, "I try."

"I have a feeling both of you-" I shoot Jowan a teasing grin "-will have more than enough female attention before the day's over."

"_That_ I doubt," Jowan mutters, playing with his ponytail.

"Jowan, just because I've proven resistent to the effect of archon robes does not mean the same will be true for the rest of the women at the wedding," I rib, smirking at his discomfort. "Seriously, if you haven't been flirted with at least twice before we leave tonight, I will let you sleep in as late as you want the entire three months we're here. Plus, the fact you got rid of that scraggly mess you called _scruff_ will help too." _Much as I might miss it..._ I bury that particularly thought the second it pops up. _Oh, stop it, Rahna. You're just not used to seeing him clean-shaven._

"It better," he mumbles. "But I'm still letting it grow back starting tomorrow."

"Whatever." I shrug, acting like I don't care, like I didn't internally cheer at that news. "Come on, we need to get going."

**oOo**

_This isn't so bad..._ The wedding's not dragging on like I was afraid it would; what with all the pomp and ceremony I'd anticipate due to it being the queen of the bloody country and the younger brother of the only remaining teryn.

That thought sends me on a tangent, and I'm wondering what happened to Gwaren after the death of their teryn. Maybe I'll ask Anora at the reception, I decide as I force myself to swallow a yawn. I know this could be worse-the Revered Mother's sermon really wasn't _that_ long-but I'm still getting tired of sitting in the hard wooden pew. It doesn't seem to be bothering anyone else, even Jowan and Nathaniel, so I wonder idly if they're all used to it. I _am_ the only non-human here. It would just figure if I was the only one who hadn't been inside the chantry before.

The Revered Mother's voice changes in pitch as she nears the end of her admonition on sacred nature of this union, and I wrestle my attention back to the ceremony.

"...Therefore, if anyone present has just cause these two should not be wed, make it now known or be forever silent, even to your dying day," the white-haired woman finishes.

As we wait through the ringing silence of the moment, I slant a glance toward Fergus Cousland. Nathaniel pointed him out to me earlier, and while the man looks tired-he's spent nearly a year undoing the damage Howe inflicted on his castle and lands-he also looks wistfully happy for his younger brother. It's this moment, more than any of the half dozen times it's been said to me, that drive home how much the elder Cousland son _lost_ the night Howe ambushed his home.

After waiting a moment and hearing no protests to the marriage she's performing, the Revered Mother nods for Anora and Hayden to join hands. The corners of my lips turn upward at the alacrity with which Hayden complies.

I can't help it; as the Revered Mother speaks the vows, pausing to let the couple before her repeat their parts after her in turn, my thoughts turn to Nelaros. The adoring way he looked at me, how much he was willing to risk and ultimately sacrifice for a girl he'd barely known a few hours. Even as I dwell on this, his face seamlessly morphs into Alistair's. This image I only indulge for a moment before hastily shoving it from my mind. I'm not likely to burst out weeping, but it's better safe than sorry. The Revered Mother raises her hands and speaks the final, binding words of the ceremony, thus making this marriage legal and very, very real. The boyish grin on Hayden's face as he and Anora turn to to face their guests... I haven't seen a man so happy in a very long time. I smile at the sight of their still-laced together fingers, noting that neither seems inclined to let go, before glancing at Anora. While the queen is much better at keeping her emotions under a very tight rein, her eyes still look contented and happy enough.

_Anora looks __**happy**_. The thought is so alien to me I have to repeat it. I've seen her look serene, triumphant, smug, sad, and carefully neutral-the way Nate gets when he knows you won't like what he's feeling-but I've never seen this contented happiness. It makes me wonder if she honestly loves Hayden the way he's made clear he loves her. _It would cast her wanting explainations for Nathaniel presence in a whole new light_, I point out to myself as we all rise to watch the royal couple depart. I roll my eyes at myself for being surprised Anora Mac Tir is _human_ and would want to look out for her soon-to-be husband.

After they've left, all the guests file out in an orderly fashion. The boring part out of the way, we now turn to what I've been dreading a little more with every head that sung in my direction-the reception.

**oOo**

Just as I feared, a trio of young men hardly wait for the dancing to begin before they all make a beeline for me. I groan when I see them coming, burying my face in my hands and struggling mightily not to kick Jowan in the shin when he starts chuckling. I'll get back at him later. Right now, I'm debating whether it's too early to fake a headache to get out of dancing.

Before I can make up my mind, the fastest of the three-a blue-eyed brunet with an easy smile and Orlesian-style moustache-has reached us and is bowing as he requests the honor of a dance with the Hero of Ferelden.

I grit my teeth, take a deep breath, and accept. I even manage to withold correction that I'm not the true Hero. Both Nathaniel and Jowan shoot me sympathetic smiles as I reluctantly follow my partner to the dance floor.

"My name is Xavier, Commander, in case you were wondering," he comments glibly as we reach the edge of the floor.

"I'm sorry, it was rude of me not to ask," I apologize. "I just... don't do well in crowds, so I'm a little distracted."

He smiles as we begin dancing. "I understand. My sister's not particularly fond of parties like this herself. I shall do my best to make this as painless as possible for you."

And he's as good as his word. Even as the line of hopefuls grows on the fringes of the whirling skirts and silk-clad men, one dance with Xavier quickly turns into two. And then three. It's only after the third dance I slip my hand free of his and apologize, nodding toward the the blond man who was only a few steps behind him when he first approached me.

"I need to give some other men a turn." I explain. "Even if I wish I didn't."

He laughs. "I understand. One of the greatest downfalls to being famous."

"Well, you were the perfect man for my first dance," I reply, offering a clumsy curtsy. I should have had Imara teach me, I lament inwardly. That girl can drop a perfect, wobble-free curtsy with her arms full and no way to balance herself. As Xavier bows and leaves, I turn to the blond man, hoping against hope the rest of these dances go as smoothly as Xavier's did.

But of course they don't. The blond steps on my feet more times than I care to count-and blames it on being used to dancing with _human_ women, which does nothing to endear him to me-and the brunet after him is one of those stuffed-shirt, arrogant bores who loves to talk, but only about himself. I manage to smile and nod for the first few minutes of his monologue before I start looking for Nathaniel. I need him cut in. I finally spot him halfway across the room and desperately mouth _Help me_ when I catch his eye. Given how fast he ducks away from the curly-haired blonde who's all but cornered him, I'm fairly sure I wasn't the only one in need of a rescue.

My dance partner is still blathering about his last visit to Orlais when Nathaniel taps him on the shoulder. "My apologies, but I fear I need to cut in."

"I beg your pardon, ser, but on what grounds?" huffs the now red-faced nobleman.

"On the grounds that I'm her second in command, and we have something rather important to discuss," Nathaniel replies smoothly.

With no way to bluster his way around the archer's cool tenacity, the nobleman huffs once more in disapproval and relinquishes me to my friend. He departs muttering under his breath, but I don't particularly care what he's saying.

"Thanks for the rescue," I murmur to Nathaniel, slipping my hand into his as we resume dancing.

"I could say the same to you," he chuckles wryly.

I smirk at him. "I noticed you didn't seem to mind leaving your, um, _new friend._"

He makes a face. "Lucia Fairhollow. Incredibly beautiful, equally persistent, and not at all willing to accept that I'm simply not interested."

My smirk widens. "We get back to Amaranthine, I'm _so_ telling Vi you picked her over a noblewoman."

"Rahna..."

I have to laugh at his long-suffering tone. "Alright, if you ask nicely, _maybe _I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Please," he mutters.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Your kindness is greatly appreciated," Nathaniel shoots back dryly. "Now, I wasn't lying to your _new friend_; there is something important I need to tell you."

All trace of mirth has vanished from his tone, so I opt for a serious response. "What is it?"

"First, how much weight do you place behind rumors?"

I frown. Nathaniel's never been one to stall, which means either this is really bad news he has for me, or the question pertains to his information. "Depends on the source, not to mention the rumor itself. Why? What's going on?"

"Apparently, someone tried to assassinate the Guildmaster of the Crows. That part, near as I can tell, is fact." My grip on his hand instinctively tightens, and he squeezes back as he continues, "Now there are people swearing they saw Crows in Ferelden, some even in Denerim itself, and the rumor is they're here to take further revenge for the attempt."

"Further-" _Zev... _I feel the panic rise until it chokes me. "Nate-"

He shakes his head. "How credible a source do you find two drunken nobles, Rahna? Even if they're right, this assassination attempt wasn't necessarily your friend."

I offer a nervous smile. "Thanks for attempting to be logical about it, Nate, but I know Zevran was going to meet with the Guildmaster, I know he was thinking about just killing him instead, and _if _the rumors are true... well, I think I'm the only person in the world Zev really cares about. Enough to be a target for a vengence-thirsty organization, anway. And I'm in Ferelden..." I don't care if they come after me. I've already beaten three separate attacks from the Crows, and they haven't killed me yet. What I am worried about is what they might have done to Zevran if they caught him trying to assassinate the Guildmaster. "I-I'm suddenly not feeling so good."

"Should I have waited to tell you?" Nathaniel looks concerned, and I wonder exactly how pale I've gone.

"No. I'm glad you told me, I just... I can't stay here..." My voice trails off as I look at the gaily partying nobility around me. I wouldn't even be able to fake having a good time.

Nathaniel nods in understanding. "I'll walk you back to our rooms."

"Oh, wait, shouldn't we tell Jowan?" I ask as he starts walking toward the door.

"He went to find some dark corner to hide in," Nathaniel chuckles. "I don't even know where he is. I'll come back and find him after you're settled."

I smile crookedly at that. "Always the gentleman."

"It's in my blood," he replies with a matching smile.

**oOo**

I think seeing how much weight I put behind the rumor made Nathaniel paranoid. He insists on walking with me all the way back to our suite of rooms.

"You know I can handle myself, right?" I tease gently.

"I do. But there's no harm in being cautious. Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Maker, Nate, how rattled do I look? I'll be fine. I just lost all interest in even faking that I was enjoying myself at the reception. You go back and keep all the girls off Jowan."

He smirks. "As you command."

I don't let myself fully panic until he's gone. Much as I trust in Zevran's skills, I can't help but wonder if this attempt was him, what happened to him. I know the reason I haven't heard from him since that one letter is because it's too much of a risk for him to send something. But I'm still worried for him.

_Maker, please don't let anything happen to him. I can't lose anyone else I care about. I won't. Please, please, please..._ I don't finish the thought. I can't. If I dwell on this too long, I'll drive myself insane. Even if Zevran is in trouble, there's nothing I can do to help him, I remind myself as I head for my bedroom. If I'm not going back to the party, I want to get out of this dress.

I'm scarcely through the doorway when someone grabs me, a hand covering my mouth and dragging me backwards until my back presses against my attacker's chest. I feel something dig into my spine as a heavily accented voice hisses in my ear, "Do not cry out, and do not struggle, _Warden._"

_A/N: I am so very evil. Because, yes, that cliff-hanger is on purpose. :3 And I'm not sorry at all. Okay, well, maybe a little tiny bit. Aside from that... well, I'm definitely swooning at the mental image of Nathaniel in his finery. And Rahna's hairstyle was found on Google by searching 'french braid'. That one was so pretty, I couldn't resist. Oh, yes, and Rahna's first dance partner, Xavier, is based off one of my Hawkes. Now, I'm off to write the resolution to this lovely chapter ending and cackle evilly when asked to hurry up. XD_


	95. Heat of the Moment

95. Heat of the Moment

Even as the shadowy figure finishes hissing their warning, I'm already reacting. Adrenaline courses through me as I ram my elbow back into their gut-_hard_. As they stagger from the impact and loosen their grip, I latch onto the wrist up near my jaw and pivot, spinning out of their grasp and tripping them all in the same movement.

The lithe figure lets out a grunt as he-at least it sounds like a he-collides hard with the floor. I lunge toward him, not pausing to wonder if this is smart, hampered as I am by my dress, and drop forcefully knee-first onto his stomach. This elicits another grunt and winds him long enough for me shift so I'm straddling his midsection and pin his hands over his head. He isn't much bigger than I am, so I trust to luck and my grip, holding both his wrists in one hand as I grope on the vanity with the other, trying to find something sharp. But I freeze when the man I'm straddling lets out a slightly wheezy chuckle.

"You know, minx, if you wish to have me at your mercy, all you need do is ask."

My groping hand drops in my surprise and I let go of his wrists as if they'll burn me. "_**Zev?!**_"

He chuckles again, sounding much less winded this time, and shifts to rest his weight on his elbows. "Who else, _amica_?"

I nearly knock him back down with the force of my hug. "You crazy bastard, I might've _killed_ you!"

"And that would indeed be sad, no?" he replies glibly, hugging me back.

I snort, feeling my heart rate slow gradually now that I know there's no immediate danger. "You never change, do you?"

"Never. But apparently you _do_, my dear. Is this an actual _dress_ you are wearing?" That's when I realize it's still dark in here and a little light would help.

"Um, yeah, it is," I mumble as I get off him, moving to light one of the candles that sit on my dresser. The light flares and then settles to a steady glow as the wick begins its slow burn. I pull it a little closer to the front edge and turn back to Zevran.

He raises both eyebrows when he really _sees_ me. "_Cosi bella..._ I must say, minx, you look quite lovely. Do you mean to tell me there was no one who tried to sweet-talk you into their bed rather than your own?"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, there were a couple who tried. But I've had lots of practice rebuffing unwanted advances," I tease.

He grins and gives and elaborate bow. "Always delighted to be of service to you, _cara amica_."

"I'll bet you are," I return, laughing as I tuck back hair that fell loose when I tackled him. "But seriously, Zev, what was with all that cloak and dagger, grabbing me in the dark stuff?"

Zev's grin fades, and his eyes are serious when they meet mine. "I do not want the Crows to know I am here, Rahna. And we both know you have a habit of... exuberence when greeting old friends, no? I felt I had to be careful."

"Ah, so grabbing a woman you _know_ can kick your arse and clappin' a hand over her mouth constitutes your idea of _careful_?" I tease, perching on the edge of my bed.

"It is better than the Crows knowing I am this close," he replies, smiling at my jab but still serious.

"I heard rumors they were in Denerim. Just tonight, actually." I play with the trailing sleeve of my dress. "I was worried about you. Said rumors mentioned a failed attempt to assasinate the Guildmaster."

Zevran shakes his head. "That was not me, my minx. Though it was horribly bad luck for me; they attacked early on the day I was to meet with him myself. The attack made him paranoid, and I lost my chance."

"So what's this? A strategic withdrawal?"

He chuckles. "Hardly that. Were it possible, I would have remained in Antiva no matter the danger. But these Crow here, they are up to something, no? Coming to Ferelden like this... I needed to be sure of what they were doing. That they did not do violence upon my dear Warden."

"Hmm. You do remember how many times the Crows have come after me, right?" I point out.

"_Amica_, the first time was me looking to die, and the third you only survived because of Jowan," he counters.

_Damn. I have to give him that,_ I grant reluctantly. "So, what, you came down here all by yourself to check up on me?"

"Oh, minx," Zev grins. "You know I never work alone. In fact..." He crosses to one of the windows and lets out a low, sharp whistle.

I take advantage of the moment's wait for something to happen to study him. Aside from carrying higher quality weapons-and having reverted to beautiful twin daggers-he looks exactly the same as when we parted. Same armor, same tattoos, same everything. It turns out to be a good thing that my once-over of my friend doesn't take long, because his whistle produces results faster than I expected.

There's a whisper-soft scrabbling noise just below my window, and then a face appears, peeking cautiously over the ledge. "Ancestors, Zev, took you long enough," the dwarven woman grumbles as she climbs over the sill. A shaggy mop of pale red hair frames a rounded face that's decorated with the blocky, S-shaped brand of a casteless and geometrically patterned tattoos that trail up the side of her face and across her forehead. "I thought you said this was a friend, _caro_."

He chuckles indulgently and brushes his fingers through her bangs. "She is. She was, however, not expecting me. And I taught her too well," he finishes slyly, rubbing his ribcage and shooting me a grin. "But that is all behind us now. Rahna, allow me to introduce my partner in crime and beyond, Aenya Brosca."

"This is your Warden?" she asks, crossing her arms and giving me a smirking once-over.

"_Your_ Warden?" I raise an eyebrow at Zevran.

He raises his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Only in the sense that I spoke of you often-"

"Meaning all the sodding time," Aenya interrupts. "Drove me crazy. 'Til I pinned him down and made him swear you two weren't any more than friends. A gal likes to know if she's got competition."

I grin at her. "You pinned him down, huh?" _I like you already._

"Indeed, it seems my lot in life to be vanquished by beautiful women," Zevran chuckles smugly.

"_Zev_!" Aenya and I bark at the same time.

"I don't think you minded, _amante_. You didn't seem in a hurry for me to get off," the redhead adds, sidling up to him and reaching up to curl her fingers around the collar of his armor so she can tug him down closer to her eye level for a more effective playful glare.

"This is also true, _perla mia_," he concedes, stealing a kiss before he straightens. "You are stunning when you're mad, no?"

She huffs in exasperation and looks at me. "Was he this much trouble for you?"

I laugh. "More, actually. But that aren't many people I'd trust more to watch my back." _Plenty I'd trust just as much, but only a couple I'd trust more, _I amend to myself, thinking of all the new friends I've made over the past few months. "How'd you two meet up, anyway?"

"_That _is quite a tale, minx," Zevran laughs.

"I have time. And my curiosity's been aroused. Just... let me get on something more comfortable first," I tack on, glancing down at my dress. It's an easy thing to change from it to a loose tunic and trousers. I decide I'll bother with my hair later as I return to my spot on the bed. "So, tell me everything," I encourage. "And y'know, you can sit down if you want. There's plenty of room on the bed, or you can pull over the chair from the vanity."

"Chair's mine," Aenya says, grabbing it and dragging it over. She spins it around so it faces away from my bed, and then sits so she can rest her chin on the back, the short skirt of her leather armor riding even higher on her legs as she does.

"As you wish, _cara mia_," Zevran shrugs, sitting next to me. "Now, Rahna, do you want the full tale, or just the important parts?"

"Oh, I'd really like the full tale, but given that it's getting late... can I get the version with only the most boring things left out?"

"You can," he nods. "And I am sure Aenya will correct me if I leave anything _important _out, no?"

She snorts. "Damn straight I will."

"This is why I love you, _perla_," he chuckles. "You keep me honest. Now, let me see... My journey to Antiva from where we parted was uneventful to the point of boring, minx, so I shall leave that out."

"Fine by me." I pull my legs into my chest and rest my chin on my knees. "Just start with Antiva City, then."

"Once I arrived, I needed information. Recent happening in the city, how alert the Crows were concerning new arrivals. While they always pay attention, there are times they are more on their guard than others. To get this news without the Crows finding me, I needed a mercenary who was not in their employ. I dropped some appropriately veiled hints to the innkeeper, and soon there was a blunt, tactless dwarf with-I would later find out-violent tendencies knocking on my door in the dead of night. After satisfying myself to her trustworthiness-"

"-By pinning me to the wall and interrogating me with a knife to my throat," Aenya interrupts to clarify, raking her bangs back off her face.

"I have _offered _to let you play rough with me in recompense, _cara_," he replies, grinning slyly at her. "Whenever you like. But getting back to the story, after I was sure she could be trusted, she became my eyes and ears. You see, she was a fairly new arrival to the city herself, but incredibly adept at spying on people."

"I picked up _some_ skills in the Carta," she fires back. "My boss, Beraht, had me rig a Proving match, we got found out, and I had ta make a run for it b'fore he skinned me alive," she explains to me. "Once I hit the surface, I overheard a couple human mercenaries talkin' about how all the good work was in Antiva, so's I made my way there. Zev hired me not long after I'd finished memorizin' the back streets and alleys an' all. Picked a good time," she grins. "M' rates hadn't gone up yet."

"For which I am eternally grateful," he interjects to regain control of the story. "We worked together to find out what the Crows knew about me, if they were still searching for me or if that group outside Ghislain had not communicated that I still lived after Taliesen. We found out Ronan had not reported _who_ he was chasing all over Orlais and beyond, so the Crows still assumed me dead alongside Taliesen, though the contract on you was still out. I then divised a plan to change this. I would kill some of the Guildmaster's more vaunted bodyguards, men and women well-known for their skill, then meet with the Guildmaster, subdue him if needed, and offer him his life in exchange for canceling the contract on you. A fair trade, no?"

"That seems rather extreme," I mutter, mildly surprised he'd risk that for me.

"I believe _insane_ was the word I used," Aenya adds.

"I protect my friends," Zevran replies to both of us, and I have a feeling Aenya's heard this line before.

She corroborates this thought when she grins at me. "This was the point I pinned him down and made him swear he wasn't beddin' me while thinkin' of someone else."

"Ah." I nod, grinning back before glancing back at Zev. "Continue."

"There's not much more to tell, minx. When I shared my plan with Aenya, she denounced it as insane and pointed out if I was going to all this trouble, I might as well kill the Guildmaster and use _that_ as my bargaining chip against the contract. She is a genius, my _perla_. But some _pazzi_ tried to poison him early the same day I was to meet with him. He became rightly paranoid, and cancelled all his meeting for the next few weeks, sent out spies to discover who was responsible and take revenge. Somehow one of them found out I was in the city, but rather than come after me as I thought they would, they instead came to Ferelden, making straight for Denerim and Amaranthine. I heard a rumor you had been invited to the royal wedding, and was more worried about your chances if they attacked here, so I decided we would come to Denerim first, and then would visit Amaranthine if it was necessary. I did not count on your reflexes being quite so good."

"You're the one who insisted I keep them sharp, Zev," I retort. "Were you really so surprised as to let me thoroughly kick your arse with no effort at all?"

"Oh, I could have made you work for it a bit more, minx," he chuckles. "I figured the more quickly you won, the more quickly I could warn you who, exactly, you were attempting to skewer."

"So you let me win." I raise a skeptical eyebrow at this claim.

"Not to say you would not have done so all the same, no? But I could have made it much more difficult to accomplish, had I wished to."

"Fair enough," I chuckle. "I'm not even going to ask where you two are staying. I don't wanna know. I'm just glad you're alright." I hug him again. "I missed you, Zev."

"And I you, _cara amica_," he replies. "And now that I have told what I was up to over the past few months, I believe it is your turn."

"Oh, Maker... _That_ will take quite a bit of time to tell, Zev..." I laugh. "Do you have all night?"

"But of course. Who needs sleep when there is a tale to be told," he rejoins. "Is that alright with you, Aenya, my dear?"

She nods. "I want to hear this tale m'self. The way you talk about her, I'm _expecting_ some big adventure."

"Well, then you're more prepared than I was when I arrived at Vigil's Keep," I inform her with a wry smile. With that, I quite easily transition into relating the events that transpired in Amaranthine. It does take me a while, simply because the situation there was so damned complicated, but both Zev and Aenya are very good listeners, so the only interruption comes when Nathaniel and Jowan return.

The knock on my bedroom door is expected after I hear their voices out in the main room. "Rahna?"

"You can come in, Jowan," I call, ignoring the look Zev's giving me.

The door creaks open and he leans into the room, eyebrows shooting up when he sees my company. "Zevran? How the bloody-" He shakes his head and sighs. "Y'know what, I'm not even truly surprised."

"Oh?" Zevran laughs, grinning at the mage.

"These things just sort of _happen_ to Rahna," Jowan reminds him. "I shouldn't have to tell you that."

"Very true," the assassin concedes, still grinning.

"_Anyway_, you two," I clear my throat, looking between them with a wry smirk,"I figure Jowan had something to tell me?"

He shrugs. "Just making sure you knew we were back."

"Okay, thanks for that. G'night."

Jowan starts to leave, but abruptly stops and turns back. "Oh, and, um, your little _wager_?" He grins at me. "I win."

I feel my mouth drop open. "No way. No _sodding_ way!" I make a mental note to punch Zevran later as he bites his lip to hold back a laugh.

"You can ask Nathaniel if you don't believe me," the mage returns, smirking.

"Oh, you bet I will," I mutter darkly.

Jowan laughs. "Night, Rahna."

"Night, _liar_," I shoot back. He just laughs again and pulls the door closed behind him as he leaves.

"And suddenly I am more intrigued about what just happened than the story you were telling us, minx," Zevran comments, grinning at me like he _knows_ something.

I am going to kill that mage. Okay, not really. But I'm _sorely_ tempted as I try to figure out the least embarrassing way to explain what that was about to Zevran.

_A/N: Yay, Zev's back! *dances with joy* I can't tell you how much I've missed writing that elf. And his interactions with Rahna and Jowan both are just gloriously fun to write. Maybe my favorite thing ever. =D Oh, yes, and Aenya was my first full Zev-mancer(Miri tried, but I got distracted 3/4 of the way through her game). She's also the only one of my Wardens that I've changed class to fit them in this story. In game, she's a sword/shield tank, but I figured a dual-wielding rogue fit better in teh story, so I took some liberties. She's my character, I can do that if I want. XDD_

_Aaanndd translations: Amica=friend, cosi bella=very beautiful, caro=dear/beloved, amante=lover, perla mia=my pearl, pazzi=lunatic_


	96. For Friendship's Sake

96. For Friendship's Sake

Explaining things to Zevran winds up taking a good deal longer than I thought it would, thanks in no small part to Jowan's interruption. The details of my bet with him, and the circumstances that led to it, have Zevran grinning at me and Aeyna quirking an eyebrow.

"So... you and that cute mage..." the dwarf drawls. "You an item?"

"No!" I take a breath to calm myself down. "No, we're just friends."

"Why the sodding stone not?" Aeyna snorts. "You two would be adorable together, and ya sure seem to care about him enough."

Right about now I want to crawl in a hole somewhere and _die_, but I settle for forcing a smile as I reply, "It's because I care about him that we're not more than friends."

Her eyebrow goes even higher. "Explain."

I blow out a slow breath as I try to figure out how to word this. "We both have things that happened in our past that are going to make... _moving on_, romantically speaking, with anyone a bit of a hard sell. And while my, um, issues are mostly put to rest, his _aren't_." My mind drifts to Lily and the days of biting my tongue at the dark circles under Jowan's eyes from dream-cursed sleep. "I like having him as my friend too much to risk it pushing for something neither of us is ready for, or even really wants."

She purses her lips and nods. "That's fair. I understand."

That issue out of the way, I pause a moment to remember where I was in my original story, and then continue.

I don't finish for quite a while.

**oOo**

The next morning, I'd be tempted to think Zev's presence in my room was all a dream if Aenya hadn't left the chair from my vanity sitting in the middle of the floor. When I scoot it across the floor to return it where it belongs, I find a very familiar sheathed dagger resting on the vanity. A small piece of vellum has been jammed in next to the blade, and I carefully work it free.

**oOo**

_ Minx-_

_ Better safe than sorry, no?_

_ Z_

**oOo**

I smile as I refold the paper and store it in the top drawer of the vanity. Trust Zevran to notice the lack of obvious weapons-my own daggers are well hidden in the armoire-and want to make sure I'm at least somewhat prepared in case the Crows come after me. Part of me wants to roll my eyes and give him a piece of my mind for not trusting me to take care of myself, like he knows I can. But the rest of me acknowledges that if he cared enough to leave this dagger, I should just accept it and thank him next time I see him. Especially because I know this particular dagger has sentimental value. He nicked it off a guard for one of his first marks, and had carried it ever since. He told me that while it was drummed into him from the beginning that there is no such thing as luck; your successes are due to your skill and your failures to a lack thereof, this dagger was something of a lucky token, simply for lack of a better description.

I pick up the weapon, rub my thumb over the scrolling design stamped into the leather sheath, and pull the narrow blade partway free. It's shiny and well-cared for, which doesn't surprise me in the slightest. Zevran always was meticulous about caring for his weapons.

"This is a _really _good blade," I mumble to myself. "Zev, don't you think you might need it more than I do?" I gingerly brush my fingertip against the exposed blade, hastily pulling back when I feel it start to bite into my skin. "Okay, so... sharp. Very, very sharp." I examine the dagger again. It's small enough to be hidden easily inside a boot, or even a voluminous enough sleeve. _A true assassin's blade._ I smirk at the thought as I get dressed. The dagger, of course, gets strapped to my leg inside my boot. If Zev's paranoid enough to leave it for me, Maker knows I'm keeping it with me.

**oOo**

It's early enough Nathaniel and Jowan are both still in bed, so I grab an apple from the bowl on the table and decide to go for a walk outside. I haven't had a chance yet to really see the palace grounds since they rebuilt everything. Jowan said they did a good job, but I want to see for myself. Because curious and bored are not a good combination, as anyone who knows me can tell you.

Once I'm outside, I head for the gardens that sprawl behind the main building of the palace. Even from a distance, I can tell they're beautiful. It's a bit cool for some of the flowers to be in bloom right now, but what _is_ still in bloom is gorgeous. I can see carefully tended beds of Andraste's Grace, rose bushes with a few mid-sized blooms still showing and some other flowers whose names I don't know. But I do have to agree; whoever planned this out knew what they were doing. I wander the paths for awhile, not thinking about anything too deep; just admiring the flowers and how isolated it seems back here. I could quite easily pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist.

_That'll be nice for Hayden and Anora when they get back from their honeymoon, _I think to myself, staring at the high walls that surround the gardens. _No way for their subjects to bother them back here._

"Commander," a voice hails me from my left as I reach down to finger a small, velvety rose that's just fully bloomed. "I almost didn't recognize you without your armor, either last night or just now."

I swing around to smile a slightly startled greeting to Anora's new husband. "The scar give me away?" I didn't see him coming, so I'm a little off-kilter with the snappy comeback.

Hayden chuckles. "Yes. How are you this morning?"

"A little tired, a little bored," I reply honestly. "I didn't get to bed until late last night-catching up with an old friend-and both of my companions are still sleeping."

A satisfied grin curls his lips. "As is my wife."

I laugh. "How long have you been waiting to call her that, Ser Cousland?"

"Too long." The glib reply rolls off his tongue with ease. "But it was worth it."

I feel a small measure of bittersweet slip into my smile. "I'm happy for you." And I mean it. I am honestly glad he and Anora are so happy together. "So, when's the honeymoon?"

"We're leaving as soon as she's up and had breakfast," he answers.

"Mind telling me where you're going?" The question is almost apologetic. I know that's not really any of my business, but I can't think of anything else to keep the conversation moving.

To my relief, Hayden doesn't seem to mind. "Gwaren, actually."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? From what I've heard of that place, it's not what would first come to mind for a romantic destination."

He laughs. "I suppose Anora's feeling nostalgic or something. And apparently, if we stay in the castle, it's quite nice."

"...And this being your honeymoon, I imagine there won't be much cause to leave, will there?"

Hayden shakes his head, grinning. "No. There won't."

I cough. I may be happy for them, but _that's_ as far as I want this conversation to go. "Y'know, I've been wondering... with Loghain dead, what happened to Gwaren, in terms of leadership, I mean."

"Well, for the day-to-day, nothing," heexplains. "Gwaren has a mayor, in addition to a teryn, so he kept things running. The land and title reverted to whoever sits on the throne as legal ruler of Ferelden." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "And she in turn made them a wedding present."

I feel _both_ eyebrows arch at that. "So _you_ are teryn of Gwaren?"

"As of yesterday, yes."

"And your brother is teryn of Highever?"

"Mm-hm."

"Wow." I'm not even entirely sure what to say to that revelation. It makes sense; a terynir is definitely an acceptable wedding present. But I can't help thinking how it's going to look to the arls and banns that the Couslands now control the two second-highest positions in Ferelden. _Damn, for as much as I hate politics, they sure have oozed into my brain,_ I grumble silently. "That's... quite a wedding present."

Hayden shrugs. "She wanted to do _something_ with it. And she said she was having trouble deciding what to give me. This solves both her problems very nicely."

"Sure does." I notice the way he's fingering one of the rose stems. "If I'm keeping you or anything, feel free to leave."

"Sorry. I do like talking to you, Rahna..."

"-But you're dying to go see if your _wife_ is awake yet?" I finish teasingly as he gently snaps off a pair of flawless roses.

"Yes. That," he grins, crouching to pick some Andraste's Grace as well.

"Go. I know what it's like to be in love. I'm hardly going to get mad at you for being excited."

He bows, still grinning like a kid at a Satinalia party. "Thank you, _Commander_. I suppose I'll see you later?"

I nod. "You will. We're sticking around until the celebration Anora has planned to mark the end of the Blight. So we'll still be here when you get back from your honeymoon."

"Good. Then I look forward to seeing you around." This last is tossed over his shoulder, as he's already making tracks for the archway that leads back to the palace.

"The feeling is quite mutual," I murmur under my breath, since he can't hear me anyway, before I return to my wanderings.

**oOo**

Nathaniel's up by the time I return to the rooms, and he greets me with a smile. "Bored already?"

I nod sheepishly. "Yeah." I hesitate for only a moment before continuing, "Hey, Nate, I need to talk to you about somethin' from last night."

He arches an eyebrow. "Jowan told me you had company."

"Yeah, Zev, um, dropped by for a visit. But that's not what I wanted to talk about. Jowan said he won our bet and that I could ask you if I didn't believe him. And I _don't_. Which is weird."

Nathaniel chuckles. "It is that. You always seem to trust him."

I snort. "I trust him with my _life_, but not with the truth regarding a friendly wager..."

"But he was telling the truth. The whole time we were down there, there was just one woman who showed... _that_ level of interest in him."

"Hmph. Did he hide in a corner or something?" I grumble.

"Yes," Nate confirms.

"That rat. That's cheating!"

He smirks. "Rahna, you've known him even longer than I have. Surely you aren't surprised at him being anti-social."

"Well... okay, that's true. But _still_," I huff. "How's anyone supposed to notice him if he's all buried back in a corner?"

"They aren't. That's the whole point of said corners," Nathaniel reminds me.

"Well, you said there was one woman who _did_ flirt with him," I protest. "How'd she find him?"

"She was a fellow wallflower and already in the corner he chose."

"And how d'you know she was flirting with him?" I demand, perching cross-legged on the couch. "Unless you were hiding in that corner, too..."

He shakes his head. "No. I asked him." I raise an eyebrow at him for that, and he hastens to explain. "I may not be as curious as you are, Rahna, but when a man I'd consider a friend comes bolting out of a carefully chosen hiding place-for lack of a better word-blushing like mad and all but _hides_ behind me... it does raise some questions."

I slap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, taking a moment to compose myself before responding. "Oh, I am _so_ interrogating him when he gets up. I need details. I haven't had something this glorious to tease a friend about since Alistair tried to convince me he was raised by dogs."

"Raised by- _what_?"

"Long story," I giggle. "Suffice to say he used humor to deflect questions he didn't wanna answer, and I made him regret it a time or two."

"Yes, I think I'll be quite happy to leave it at that..." Nathaniel mutters. "And Rahna?"

"Mm-hm?"

"When you talk to Jowan... go easy on him," the archer cautions. "I don't know why or what, but something seemed to be bothering him the rest of the night after that little... incident."

"Trust me, Nate, the last thing I wanna do is push Jowan too hard about anything. Whenever I do that I wind up sayin' something that gets him thinking about his past, which makes him all mopey. And I hate _that_ more than just about anything." I sigh and decide to let it drop-for now. "Now, I think I'll pick out a book and kill time until a certain ladykiller mage drags himself outta bed."

_A/N: I just want it known that I regret nothing with this chapter. XD Absolutely nothing. And I am trying to think of a way to keep Zev involved a bit more for at least a couple more chapters, just because I've missed him and he and Aenya have this really fun dynamic in my head._


	97. Force of Habit

97. Force of Habit

_ "Rahna, are you sure about this? I mean __**really**__ sure?" Alistair frowns in concern as we walk away from the Blackstone liaison._

_ "We need the money," I reply simply. "Armor doesn't repair itself, and skilled as they may be, I don't think Morrigan and Wynne can make food magically appear in our bags."_

_ "Wouldn't it be great if they could?" He grins boyishly at the thought and I feel my heart jump a little as I laugh._

_ "Yes, especially given the way you eat," I tease. "We'd save a small fortune."_

_ "Hey!" he protests, giving my shoulder a playful nudge, hard enough I stumble._

_ "Hey yourself!" I shoot back, giggling as I snag my fingers on his belt in my attempt to stay upright. Once I've regained my feet, I instinctively elbow him in the ribs, forgetting that he's wearing a suit of heavy plate we found in the Circle tower._

_ "Ow!" I must've caught a weak point in his armor, because we both yelp when my elbow makes contact._

_ I rub my funny bone and glare at him as he laugh. "Not funny."_

_ "Yes, it is," he retorts. "But in all seriousness, Rahna, aside from the... questionable legality of what they want us to do, do we even have time? I mean, we need to find Brother Genetivi-and given the stories I've heard, he's probably not in his house-and then find the Urn of Sacred Ashes so we can heal Arl Eamon."_

_ "I know, Alistair. I know," I assure him. "And we will. These side jobs are just something to do as we go; get us some more money. Finding Genetivi's top priority. Well, right behind getting our armor fixed." Both his plate and my well-loved leather armor took a beating when we were set upon by bandits a couple days outside the city. "But we can leave it at the armorer's while we're talking to Genetivi, kill two birds with one stone. Three, actually, if you wanted to look for your sister."_

_ "I would, but... given how often people seem to attck us, d'you really think it's a good idea to go sauntering around the city without armor?" he points out._

_ "Alistair, with where your sister and Genetivi live, we won't even have to leave the market district. Are you thinking you're going to need armor to meet Goldanna?" I tease as we leave the tavern._

_ He blushes. "Can't be too careful?"_

_ I laugh. "Don't worry, I"ll protect you. But I really, really doubt we'll need armor to talk to a Denerim washerwoman and a scholar..."_

**oOo**

It takes Jowan forever to wake up. Or at least long enough that Nathaniel's gone by the time he drags himself out of bed. The archer was apparently as restless as I feel; he muttered something about falling out of practice before leaving. I have a feeling all I'd need to do in order to track him down would be ask Imara or somebody where the palace's archery range is. They must have one, for the guards' training if nothing else. And if I know Nathaniel at all, that's where he'll be.

I'm just reaching the point of deciding wager or no, I'm going to go slug Jowan with a pillow until he wakes up, when the mage's door opens and he appears, not even looking fully awake.

He starts slightly when he sees me sitting on the couch and mumbles, "Mornin'" around a yawn.

I force myself to bit back a giggle at the crazy things his hair's doing. "Good morning. Sleep well?"

"Mm-hm." He nods, dragging one hand through his hair. By some minor miracle, his fingers don't snag on a single knot. "How 'bout you?"

"Just fine, thanks. So, I talked to Nate about last night..."

Jowan groans as he pulls out one of the chairs around the table and drops into it. "Maker, Rahna, can I please have a minute to properly wake up before we start on this?"

I want to say no; I've been waiting all morning for him, practically climbing the walls I'm so keyed up, but since I know he'll take friendly ribbing better the more awake he is, I nod instead. "Sure, sorry."

"Much 'ppreciated..." he mutters around a mouthful of apple.

I return to trying-and failing-to read the book I'd pulled off the shelf earlier. It's not that it's not interesting, I just can't focus right now, I'm so anxious to talk to Jowan. So I read a sentence or two, fidget restlessly, and repeat until he's finished eating. "Now?"

To his credit, he chuckles as he holds up a hand. "Just give me one more minute."

I sigh and let my head drop back against the couch. "You're killin' me here..."

"I think you'll survive," he chuckles as he ducks into his room, emerging just a few seconds later with his hair back in its usual ponytail. He sits next to me and meets my gaze. "Interrogate away."

"I'm not planning for this to be an interrogation," I protest, rolling my eyes. "I'm just-"

"-a little curious about last night?" he finishes for me, grinning.

"Y'know, if you really want all those rumors we're a couple to die away, you might wanna stop finishing my sentences for me," I tease. "No one else ever does that."

He grimaces. "Point taken. What about last night did you want to know?"

"Well, Nate backed you up on the whole 'winning' thing," I begin, elbowing him when he smirks. "But I wanna know about this one lady who apparently _did_ flirt with you." Maker, he goes so sodding _red_, I have to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. "What?"

Jowan sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Rahna, I'm not Anders. I-I'm not a smooth talker, I didn't have a gaggle of girls following me around..." He hesitates briefly before continuing, "When I say Miri was my only friend at the Circle, I'm not exaggerating things."

"So, what, did the other kids leave it at picking on you or something?"

He snorts. "To do that they would have had to acknowledge my existence. Most of 'em didn't even know my name; I was just 'Miri's friend'."

"...Oh." He's never talked much about the Circle, and I've never asked.

"Don't worry about that, Rahna," he adds hurriedly. "I'm not telling you that to make you feel guilty or sorry for me or anything. I just wanted you to have context and know that I don't have a lot of experience with women _flirting _with me."

"Got it," I nod.

He sighs again, sounding more weary this time. "Of course, the fact she looked sort of like Lily didn't help _**at all.**_"

_Ah-ha_. "So it wasn't so much that you aren't used to flirting, it's _who_ was flirting with you. Or more who she looked like."

Jowan nods reluctantly. "It was probably both, yes. I'm honestly surprised I slept as well as I did. She had the same color hair, the same eyes..."

"It was like seeing a ghost?" I guess.

"Well, Lily's not dead, but close enough, I guess," he concedes.

"Maker, Jowan, that's rough." I gnaw on my lip, trying to figure out what else to say. And then inspiration strikes. "I think I know a way to keep that off your mind."

He raises an eyebrow. "That would be appreciated. A lot."

"Wanna meet my family? We can drag Nate along, too, so they don't get any ideas about the two of us," I add hastily.

"Sounds like a plan," Jowan agrees. "Though you've talked about them enough, I feel like I already know them."

"Heh, well... Soris and Shianni at least have changed since I left," I inform him. "My father's still pretty much the same."

"Still, I'd definitely like to actually meet them, once Nathaniel gets back from wherever he went."

I chuckle. "Given that he was muttering about feeling out of practice when he left, I have a suspicion he tracked down the archery range to remedy that problem."

"Would make sense," Jowan agrees. "Any idea how long he'll be?"

I shake my head. "Nope, but that's okay; I have something to... take care of in the meantime."

"Ooh, that sounded suspicious," he teases.

I wrinkle my nose at him. "I just wanna see if I can track down where Zevran and Aenya are staying, that's all."

"And how're you planning on doing that?" Jowan asks skeptically. "He's very good at disappearing when he wants to, Rahna, remember?"

I just waggle my eyebrows and grin. "I have my ways."

**oOo**

In this case, my ways involve collecting on a favor owed. The house I seek out isn't far from the palace; a perfectly safe walk for me to take alone in broad daylight like this. It's well-kept but plainer than the estates that sit less than a stone's throw away. It only takes a few moments-and the right words-to convince the guard out front to let me in. I find my way to the main hall with relative ease, and occupy myself examining the tapestries and painting that decorate the walls as I wait for the man I came to see.

"I hear this is a matter of some importance," the grizzled, silver-haired human is saying as he enters. He smiles when he sees me. "Warden. I was wondering how long it would take to see you again, though I did think it would be longer than this."

I smile back and nod a greeting. "Raelnor. I need your help finding someone. Well, _two_ someones."

"Only too happy to help the woman who aided the Irregulars so faithfully," Raelnor replies. "Who were you looking for?"

"An ex-Crow and a casteless dwarf."

He chuckles. "You never did strike me as the type to want something easy. Give me descriptions and we'll see what we can do."

**oOo**

Nathaniel's still not back yet when I return to our rooms. Jowan looks up from the book he's reading and laughs at my sigh.

"Oh, shut up, you," I huff, plopping down next to him. "I'm just worried about fitting in a visit to my family today if he takes much longer..."

"Well, you can either go find him and tell him that, or sit here with me and wait patiently." He tweaks my pigtail. "Your choice."

I let out a grumbling groan of frustration and reach for my book from earlier, cracking it open to where I'd left off as I shift position to lean my back against Jowan's shoulder.

"What're you doing?" he chuckles as my weight comes to bear on his shoulder.

I shoot him a grin. "Believe it or not, this position is more comfortable than sitting like a normal person."

"For _you_ maybe it is," Jowan teases.

"Oh, sorry, if I'm bugging you I can move." I'm already shifting again as I apologize.

"No, no, no, Maker, Rahna, that's not what I _meant_," he laughs, reaching around to stop me. "I'm fine. I just know I wouldn't be comfortable with someone's shoulder digging into my spine, that's all."

"Oh. Well I _am._ Just another one of my weird little quirks, I guess," I tease as I settle back, and we both lapse into silence as we give our books our full attention.

**oOo**

Normally the sound of someone climbing in the window of his room would have Zevran on full alert, weapons at the ready and prepared to fight to the death. But not this time. He could tell the person scrabbling up the outside wall of The Pearl was purposely making noise, with the express intent of _not_ finding herself greeted with a knife to the throat from her overly-but rightly-paranoid partner.

Zevran toyed briefly with the idea of hiding somewhere to surprise her, but knowing her reflexes were as good as his own, he discarded that idea, instead leaning against the wall to greet her with a smirk.

It wasn't long before the dwarf tumbled over the window sill, landing in an ungraceful heap of leather, dust, and tousled red hair. She popped back up almost instantly and grinned at him as she feathered one hand through her hair in an effort to set it right. "Hello, there."

Zevran laughed. "Hello, _cara_. And who did you rob blind this time?"

Aenya's grin widened, and she pulled a bulging, well-used coin purse free of her belt. "That dwarven merchant who's always bellowin' in the main square. I wasn't plannin' to, but he eyed me funny when I was lookin' at his gear."

The elf chuckled indulgently. "Ah, _perla_. You and your habits."

She shrugged. "You can take the girl out of the Carta, but you can't take the Carta out of the girl," she retorted. "And I blame _you_, at least in part."

"For what, my lovely dwarven flower?" Zevran closed the distance between them, moving in to steal a kiss.

"For insisting I keep this damned duster-style armor," Aenya shot back. "That merchant and I are both surface dwarves now, but arses like that'll never see me as their equal-"

"I rather think _this_ is more to blame for that than your armor, my dear," Zevran interrupted, tracing his finger over her brand.

"Stop ruining my gripe with your logic, elf," she growled, fighting back a laugh as his hand inevitable slid lower to start loosening the buckles to her armor. "I know you like how much leg this shows off."

"Mmm... Very much so," Zevran whispered, stooping to nibble at the side of her neck as his nimble fingers worked her shoulder guard off. "I notice you have yet to change..."

"I'm... I'm just indulging you, _caro_," she shot back, tone slightly breathless as she dropped the coin purse to the floor and tangled her hands in his hair.

"One more thing for me to love about you..." Zevran mumbled as his hands gripped her waist and boosted her to wrap her legs around him.

"The list just keeps growing," Aenya murmured, giving him a saucy grin as she worked his shirt up and over his head. "Let me give you a few more new additions..."

**oOo**

What the normally observant dwarf had failed to notice, so pleased was she at her successful robbing of a merchant's stall in broad daylight, was the rather foreign looking man who followed her all the way from the market square until she climbed through the window of her room at The Pearl. He noted carefully which window the redhead tumbled through, nodding to himself with satisfaction before leaving to inform his leader he knew where to find the people he sought.

_A/N: Not gonna lie, I can't decide which is my favorite mental image of this chapter; Rahna using Jowan's shoulder as a backrest, or Aenya robbing Gorim blind. *evil laugh* Both of those were spur of the moment 'Aw-heck-why-not' type inspirations, and I don't regret including them for a second. Rahna was the first of my Wardens to get all the way through the Blackstone Irregulars questline, so I thought it would be neat to allude to them somehow. =)_


	98. Best Behavior

98. Best Behavior

It's another hour before Nathaniel returns, looking far more relaxed than I've seen him in quite a while. He's practically _smiling_, instead of his usual serious expression.

"I'm going to assume it went well, Nate?" I tease, marking my page and setting aside my nearly finished book.

He nods. "I wasn't nearly as out of practice as I had feared."

"Duh," I laugh. "Given the way you are about keeping your skills sharp, it doesn't surprise me at all that you can still be amazing after almost a month without so much as touching a bow. You out-shot some of Anora's guardsmen, didn't you?"

Nathaniel shrugs, a smirk pulling at his lips. "More like all who tried, but yes, I did do rather well."

"Well, in the wake of showing off-sorry, _exhibiting_ your superior archery skills, you wanna come with Jowan and me to visit my family?" I grin.

He rolls his eyes at my playful jab about showing off, but nods in answer to my question. "I would very much like to meet your family, Rahna. I'd imagine they have plenty of stories about you..."

I glare at him, hearing Jowan chuckle behind me. "I swear to Andraste, Nate, you ask about any of the embarrassing ones, and I'll just have to have a friendly chat with your sister when we get back to Amaranthine."

"So touchy..." Nathaniel chuckles. "Never fear, I don't plan on _asking_ for any embarrassing stories about my commander."

"Good." I turn to shoot a withering look at Jowan, who's still laughing.

"However, if one of them should voluntarily tell one about my _friend_, I don't imagine I'd make them stop..."

I whip back around to glare at him. "Don't. You. Dare."

He just smiles. "Shall we go?"

I'm still eyeing him with great suspicion as I reach for my boots. "I dunno if I trust you..."

"You're unsure about trusting your second in command? That could be a problem, Commander."

"I am going to throw something at you, Howe. Very. Soon."

"Alright, my turn to be the adult," Jowan chuckles. "Behave. Both of you.

"C'mon, let' go," I sigh, having shoved my feet-and Zev's dagger-into my boots. "Before I change my mind about leting you two anywhere _near_ Shianni."

"No worries, Rahna, I'm sure we'll both be on our best behavior," Nathaniel promises, serious but with his good mood still intact.

Still muttering under my breath, I snatch up my cloak-for later, just in case-and lead the way out the door.

**oOo**

There's been some definite progress made for the ongoing repairs since I was last here; large piles of wreckage have been cleared away, and I see at least one house that looks habitable once again.

"Hard to believe there's still so much to repair after a year," Nathaniel comments.

"Believe it or not, this is actually quite a lot better than it was last time I visited," I inform him. "And, for your own sake, don't say anything like _that_ around Shianni. You'll set her off on yet another rant about how the queen's not doing enough to help them rebuild, no one cares how badly off the elves are, things like that."

"Warning noted," he nods. "And thank you."

"It's for my own good as well," I laugh. "I've already sat through a couple of those rants. Don't really wanna do it again, if at all possible."

"I understand. So, where's your house in all of this?"

"A few doors down that alley there." I point. When we reach it, I see Nathaniel smirk and trace the crudely-etched grafitti that marks the doorframe as I knock.

"Bit of a vandal in your youth, Rahna?" he asks.

"Hey, it's not vandalism when you do it to your own damn house," I protest, blushing a little as the door opens.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would visit again, my girl," Father smiles, pulling me into a hug. I hug him back, not minding in the least when he holds me a beat or two longer than is strictly necessary. Much as I loved Alistair, I still maintain that my father gives the best hugs in all of Thedas.

"Well, I didn't want you to get sick of me," I tease when we pull back.

"Oh, perish the thought, dear one," he chuckles, glancing up at my companions. "More friends of yours, I assume?"

I nod. "And fellow Grey Wardens to boot. This is Nathaniel and Jowan."

He bows in greeting to both of them, a respectful gesture they return, before holding out an arm to usher us into the house. "Come in, come in. Shianni's helping Alarith today, and Soris had to run an errand, but he should be back soon. In the meantime, we can just visit."

I smile warmly. "Sounds good to me, Father. Anything new happen since I was last here, or has it been same old, same old?"

"Your cousin is seriously considering becoming the new elder, for one," he replies as we all take seats at the table.

"Really? She is? She seemed so... taken aback by the idea." I'm genuinely surprised; Shianni was so dismissive of even entertaining the possibility, this is a rather dramatic change.

He chuckles, steepling his fingers and shooting me a meaningful smile. "It helped, I'd say, that Alarith thinks she would do an excellent job."

"Ah. Yes, that would mean a lot to her." I briefly explain to Nathaniel and Jowan about Shianni's friendship with the storekeeper, and how highly she values his opinion.

"So it's kind of like us, in other words," Jowan whispers, and I nearly choke because he's _right._ Down to the way Soris and I teased her about them being more than just friends, Shianni and Alarith's relationship is almost uncannily similar to the one between me and Jowan.

"Kind of," I whisper back, making a mental note to stop needling my cousin about the exact nature of her "friendship" with the mild-mannered storekeep. If there's one thing that drives me bonkers, it's when people read too much into my friendship with Jowan, and here I've been doing the same bloody thing to Shianni. "And how's Soris doing?" I ask my father.

He shrugs. "As well as can be expected, given his circumstances. I believe he was making plans to leave soon. Another of his forays to try and find Valora."

"Does he have any good leads?"

"No better than the last three trips." Father shakes his head. "I admire his tenacity, and his dedication to his wife, but I worry he may spend the rest of his life chasing dead ends."

"So you think he needs to give it up, like Shianni?"

"I don't know," he admits, rising as the kettle hanging over the fire lets out an ear-piercing screech. "I hate to tell him to abandon her, yet I'd hate to see him spend his whole life chasing dead ends. Any of you care for some tea? There's more than enough water."

We all accept, and as he's preparing the drinks, the door creaks open. "Uncle Cyrion, Shianni says she prob'ly won't be home 'til la-" Soris stops mid-sentence when he sees the three of us. "Rahna. Good to see you again, cousin."

"Soris," I return, giving a casual wave of greeting before introducing Nathaniel and Jowan. "What were you saying about Shianni?"

He shrugs. "Just that she won't be home until late. She didn't want your father to worry."

"Anything wrong?" Father asks, turning to pass out the mugs of steaming tea.

Soris shakes his head. "Not technically, no. Someone got into Alarith's store last night and trashed it-again. She's going to stay and help him until it's entirely put back together, that's all."

"Well, it was good of her to let me know. I would have gotten worried for sure." Father hands Soris a mug of tea as well before sitting back down. "Can you stay to talk?"

He nods. "My ship doesn't leave for two days yet, uncle. I have plenty of time to talk."

Conversation swings in a more general direction, until in the course of our talking, Soris finds out Nathaniel's an archer. Given his own interest in archery-though he prefers a crossbow-my cousin is only too happy to talk about that with Nathaniel while Jowan and I continue talking to my father about a variety of terribly trivial things. We're all enjoying ourselves so much, we don't even notice the hours slipping away like sand through a child's fingers.

**oOo**

When we finally-and reluctantly, in some cases-say our goodbyes, it's late enough in the day that I'm glad I brought a cloak. Nathaniel, Jowan and I make the walk back to the palace largely in silence.

"You're very lucky to have a family like that, you know," Jowan comments quietly, shortly after we've left the Alienage.

I nod. "Believe me, I thank the Maker for them every time they cross my mind, which is quite often."

"I'm going to guess that your mother's the one who taught you how to fight, though," Nathaniel adds. "Your father struck me more as a diplomat, rather than a fighter."

Another nod. "You would be correct. Good read."

He simply shrugs, and we lapse into silence for the rest of the walk back. When we reach our rooms, Cier is waiting, bouncing up on the balls of his feet in his impatience.

"Oh, _there _you are!" the redheaded elf exclaims in relief when we walk in. "There was a man, told me t' give you a message."

"Slow down, slow down," I urge, slipping my cloak from around my shoulders. "It can't be all that bad."

The boy shrugs. "He said it was important, m'lady. Said they found the people you was lookin' for. They're at the Pearl." Cier hands me a crudely-drawn sketch of the whorehouse, one window marked off. "But he also said he thinks someone else is lookin' for 'em. There was some man with a funny accent askin' around."

"Thanks for telling me. And for the warning."

"What was that about?" Nathaniel asks after Cier leaves.

"I had the Blackstone Irregulars track down Zev for me," I explain, almost-sheepishly.

"Ah. Can't stop looking out for your friends, can you?" he chuckles.

"Nope. You bein' one of the few people to benefit from that more than him, I wouldn't think you'd give me such a hard time about it," I tease.

Jowan coughs, holding back a laugh, and shoots Nathaniel a wry smile. "She has a point. That habit's been a really good thing for you and me both."

"Alright, alright, I surrender, and you're right," Nate concedes with a laugh. "Were you thinking about visiting him, Rahna?"

"I might," I hedge, not willing to commit one way or the other.

"Which will become yes," Jowan chimes in. I glare at him. "Not my fault you're predictable, Rahna."

Badly as I want to strut across the room and yank _hard_ on his ponytail, I settle for sticking out my tongue. "I hate you, you wicked mage."

"No, you don't," he contradicts cheerfully before ducking into his room.

I huff in good-natured frustration and snatch back up the cloak I'd discarded. "I'm going for a walk."

"Be careful," Nathaniel cautions with a laugh. "Especially if you find yourself near the Pearl."

"Promise." I skip the teasing reminder that I can handle myself. I know he knows that. It's just his nature to play it safe.

**oOo**

Due to the warnings of someone else looking for Zevran, I keep the hood of my cloak up, letting the deep blue material hide my face. Fortunately, it's gotten chilly enough most people are doing likewise, so I don't stand out.

I wasn't planning on visiting Zev and Aenya this soon, but as I wander aimlessly, my feet take me in that direction anyway. Sanga smiles when she sees me, and I greet her before asking to see my friend. The way she hesitates before showing me down the hall makes me wonder just how much Zev paid her not to let on that they're here.

When he opens the door with a dagger in hand, I'm fairly certain it was a lot. "Minx, what are you doing here?" He seems genuinely surprised, and more than a little worried. "You weren't followed, were you?"

I'd tease him about being paranoid, but knowing what the Crows are capable of, I decide against that. "Pretty sure I wasn't followed, and as for how I found you... well, I have my ways."

He chuckles. "How enigmatic of you, _amica._ Very well, I shall not press."

"Wise move. I just wanted to make sure you're safe." I move inside the room so he can close the door.

Zev nods. "Safe and hidden, as much so as we can be in this city. Indeed, I believe our largest threat is not the Crows but rather Aenya's need to pickpocket every noble she sees."

I laugh. "I have a friend with that same impulse. Luckily for me, she manages to suppress it-usually. She's a casteless dwarf as well."

"What's her name?" the red-headed main topic of our conversation asks, tumbling in through the window.

"Sigrun," I reply, smiling in curiosity at her manner of entrance.

Her eyes light up. "Dark hair, blue eyes, and lotsa tattoos?"

"Toss in an irrepressibly cheery nature and yes, that's her exactly," I reply with a grin.

"Sweet Stone, I was wonderin' how she was doin'," Aenya whoops, looking pleased with this news.

"She's one of my Wardens now. She stayed back at Amaranthine, though. I left her in charge."

Seeing his lover's excitement at my mention of her old friend, Zevran suggests I stay and talk for a while.

So I do.

_A/N: Well, that wasn't nearly as hard to write as I was afriad it might be. I think that's because Cyrion and Soris didn't find out that Jowan's a blood mage and Nate's a Howe. Yet. So when they do... *That* may be a hard chapter to write. But I'll worry about that then. For all you Jowan lovers, sorry he's so quiet this chapter. Oh, yes, and Rahna's opinion of her father's hugs I freely admit is entirely due to my own Daddy's Girl status. :) _


	99. Set in Stone

99. Set in Stone

The months that lay between the wedding and the memorial ceremony feel like they're dragging on forever, a fact Jowan teases me about to no end.

"You just can't sit still for more than a couple weeks, can you, Rahna?"

I toss a sarcastic laugh toward the mage, who's watching over the back of the couch as I pace unending loops across the floor of the room. "Nope. That's always been a problem with me. But it's gotten worse since I joined the Wardens."

"Gotta be out there saving the world, huh?" he ribs.

This laugh is far more genuine as I remember Kiv saying almost the same thing to me back at Weisshaupt. "Saving the world, averting disasters, solving other people's problems... any of the above would do," I agree. "I hate doing nothing."

"Maybe you could see if any of the guards would be willing to duel you?" he suggests.

"Already tried," I shake my head. I dunno if they're afraid of hurting me or getting their arses kicked, none of 'em would do it."

"Oh. You could...come up with a creative apology letter for Sigrun."

I snort. "I could write her the best bloody apology in the history of Thedas and she'll _still_ never let me live this down. I'm going to owe her forever." Despite understanding my situation and agreeing I made the best choice out of my options, Sigrun still sounded less than pleased with being in charge an additional three months. I'm going to be hearing about this for a good long while after we get back, and I know it.

Jowan shrugs. "Then I'm fresh out of ideas."

I groan, circling the couch so I can drop onto it with a dramatic and despairing sigh. He laughs at me. "What?"

"Rahna, I know it's driving you crazy, but I'm really glad to get a breather like this," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Course you are," I grunt back. "You're still sane. I've long since been deemed crazy."

"I'm not even going to comment on that."

I grope for a cushion and whack him with it. "Rat! I thought you were on my side!"

"Just b'cause we're friends doesn't mean I'm going to deny that you're crazy," he laugh, blocking my next shot and stealing my weapon with a single smooth motion. "'Sides, don't you usually claim that like a badge of honor?"

"Well, yeah... but _still_..." I splutter.

"Very eloquent." Jowan grins at my half-hearted attempts to reclaim the pillow. "Rahna, I'm not letting go."

"Fine." I yank on his ponytail instead.

**oOo**

Fortunately for me-and Jowan's hair-I do get a reprieve from the boredom halfway through our extended stay. Hayden and Anora return from their honeymoon, and one of the first things the queen does is contact the stonecarvers to arrange a time for the two of us to go see this monument she commissioned. I leap at the chance to break the monotony of "doing nothing". It only takes a week for things to settle into a normal enough rhythm that Anora feels comfortable taking the time out of her schedule to view this monument that will dominate the open space in front of the palace. And so the two of us take a carriage ride out to the huge, empty warehouse the queen granted the stonecarvers to use for the duration of this project.

We're greeted by an exceedingly gruff dwarf, who doesn't seem to care that he's addressing the Queen and a national hero. "I hope you weren't plannin' on a long visit, ladies. If we want this done in time for the ceremony, my crew can't take a soddin' long break."

"Understood," Anora nods, graciously ignoring his manners, or lack thereof. "Commander, this is Sorrin. He was a highly regarded sculptor in Orzammar before becoming a surfacer. If you'll show us your progress so far, Sorrin, I promise, we'll be on our way as fast as possible."

He grunts approval at this and leads us inside. "Touch as little as possible, Yore Majesty, there's dust everywhere and we wouldn't want you gettin' _dirty_." There's a sarcastic bite to his words.

"Sorrin, that's no way to be speaking to a lady," another dwarf reprimands him. He bows, long, dark beard almost brushing the dusty floor. "I apologize for my brother ladies. We're a touch behind schedule and that makes him grumpy. I'm Ralls," he informs me, "and you must be the Warden Her Majesty said she'd be bringing by, yes?"

I nod, liking this man immensely. "That would be correct. I'm incredibly curious what you've done for this monument, I must confess."

"Well, then, let's not waste anymore time." Ralls claps his brother on the shoulder and gestures toward the main part of the room.

Every possibility I've run through my mind pales in comparison to the real thing. All told, this statue must be twenty feet tall. The base alone is nearly as tall as I am. The squared off block is engraved on all visible sides-three I can see from here-but I need to get closer in order to make out words. However, for the moment I don't want to move closer, because the actual statue part has captivated me and I want to keep looking at it.

There are two figures involved, but it's the first that truly captures my attention. A warrior; a tall, strong man in heavy plate armor, stands with sword and shield readied to enter battle or stand his ground. They haven't finished the details of his face yet, but everything fro the stance to his haircut and jawline guarantees that it doesn't take much imagination to see Alistair. Especially given the detailed Grey Warden crest carved into both his shield and the chestplate of the armor. I can't tear my gaze away from this stone man, this larger-than-life homage to the one who was my _everything_ for the brief time we had together. _Alright, so Anora literally built Alistair a monument. Wow._

"Commander?" Anora sounds concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Mm? Oh, yes, I'm fine," I hastily assure her. "Did you tell them what to carve?"

She hesitates. "I... gave parameters I felt needed to be met, but I fear I lack the artistic skill to sit down and design something like this."

I can't see any reason for her to lie, but neither can I figure another way this statue can look _so much_ like Alistair. Deciding that's not a particularly important point right now, I look at the rest of the statue.

Behind the warrior rears up a griffon, one wing still obviously a work in progress, as is its head. But it already has a majestic look to it, and I have to admit I can't wait to see the finished work.

"Can I get a closer look at the base?" I ask Ralls.

"Certainly," he nods, "We haven't finished with it just yet, but it's far enough long for you t' get the idea."

So I walk closer, tucking back a stray lock of hair as I do. The outward-flaring top and bottom edges of the base have been carved in a stair-stepped fashion so they stick out a few inches. This shades the inscriptions, blocking a bit of the light that shines upon the polished stone. My approach brings me first to the right side of the monument, the griffon's unfinished wing outstretched above my head. Along the top edge, just below the decorative trim, is is inscribed a verse from the Chant of Light, or at least part of one. _'Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.' Benedictions 4:11_. I know there's more to that verse, but it doesn't really fit the theme, so I understand why it was left off. Below the verse lie lists. Unfinished, slightly cramped-especially compared to the verse-and very neatly done lists of names. I know without even asking that these are the people who died in the Battle of Denerim. There is one thing I want clarification on, though.

"Are these just the soldiers?" I ask, looking back at Ralls.

He nods. "Unfortunately. There wouldn't be room on a statue twice this size to include all the civilians, Commander."

"I understand," I assure him as I begin circling the statue. The back has more names, neatly stacked under the Grey Warden motto. I trace the words _DEATH _and _SACRIFICE_ with one finger before continuing. The left side is surmounted with another partial verse: _'Let mine be the last sacrifice' Andraste 4:12_ That entire verse is a good one. I assume they only used part of it for the sake of space, time, and labor. And not excessively angering the Chantry. Again there are the perfectly even columns of names. _So many people..._

The only side that isn't dominated by the names is the front. The bottom half is all that bears the lists. The upper half is occupied by the large engraving, framed in flourishes.

_ We erect this monument_

_ to honor_

_ ALISTAIR THEIRIN_

_ RIORDAN OF JADER _

_ And all others who gave their_

_ lives in the Battle of Denerim,_

_ to end the Fifth Blight._

_ ~The People of Ferelden_

_ 9:31 Dragon_

I can't decide if I love or hate the fact Alistair's name is smack-dab center, right at eye level for me. I sigh, fighting back so many emotions I can't even name them all, and rest my hand over the deeply graven letters of my lover's name. I've long since come to terms with his death. Long since convinced myself life goes on, and there are plenty of people who want me to be part of it, who would be devastated if I wasn't.

But seeing it literally set in stone seems to take this to a whole new level of truth, and I feeling an old, deep sadness welling up from my very _bones_.

I manage to hide it long enough to congratulate Ralls and Sorrin on the magnificent job they and their crew have done. The ride back to the palace is silent, me brooding and Anora being astute enough to know she should just let me. Jowan and Nathaniel are gone when I get back to the rooms, for which I'm grateful. I hide myself in my room, perching on one of the wide window ledges and resting my chin on my drawn-up knees.

_I wish Zev was still here..._ It's an idle, vain thought. He and Aenya left last week, deciding the Crows were getting too close for comfort. So I have to settle for my thoughts and memories. At least until Jowan gets back from wherever he is. He's known me longer, seen me very nearly at my lowest, and there's just... _history_ there that I don't have with Nate, much as I trust him.

**oOo**

_ "Why don't you want to be king?"_

_ Alistair looks up at my question, hand slowing to a stop against the breastplate he's cleaning. "Where's this coming from?"_

_ I shrug, dropping my gaze back to my own armor, which lays across my lap, squeaky clean from its own rigorous scrubbing. I return to massaging oil into the leather, far more vigorously than is strictly necessary. "I dunno. Arl Eamon was pushing for it pretty bloody hard, and I couldn't help but notice you seem to __**not**__ want to be king as badly as he __**wants**__ you to be king. Just curious why."_

_ He chuckles. "Well, for starters, we couldn't be together anymore, and I'd rather die than give you up."_

_ I blush, making a mental note to thank him properly for that later tonight. Preferably when someone other than Zevran has watch duty. "But that can't be all of it. After all, you hated the idea before we even met, so what was your excuse then?"_

_ "Too much pressure, too much responsibility... Everyone's problems become your problem... I'm not cut out for that, Rahna."_

_ "Oh, yes, because Grey Wardens have so few problems," I tease, nodding at the ichor he's scraping off his armor._

_ Alistair rolls his eyes. "Well, okay, I'll give you that, but at least most of our problems can be beheaded as a solution. No politics, no playing nice, just a sharp blade and someone you trust to watch your back."_

_ I laugh. "Hey, sounds good to me."_

_ "Know what sounds good to me right now?" he asks, leaning close to whisper. "A bath. A nice, long bath."_

_ A thousand jokes rise up on my tongue, but what comes out instead is a low, throaty chuckle. "Oooh, you naughty, naughty Chantry boy."_

_ He leans even closer, voice so low it's nearly inaudible. "Care to help me with the hard to reach spots?"_

_ My armor's slid off my lap into a pile on the ground before he even finishes the sentence. "Only if you return the favor."_

**oOo**

I'm still staring at nothing, mind lodged firmly in the past, when I hear a gentle knock on my door. "Rahna?"

I reluctantly pull myself out of the _very_ good memories. "You can come in, Jowan. 'M just thinking."

The door creaks open. "I hear that can be dangerous."

Melancholy as I may be feeling, I have to chuckle at the over-used line. "Never heard _that_ one before..."

Jowan laughs sheepishly at my sarcasm, shrugging apologetically as he joins me sitting on the window ledge. "I never claimed to be _original,_ Rahna."

I give him a lopsided smile as I concede the point. "True."

He must see something in my eyes, because he nudges my shoulder. "What's wrong? You look down."

One big sigh and the story comes tumbling out of me. It feels indescribably liberating to talk about this it with someone, especially someone who knows what it is to carry a weight like this.

_A/N: Whee, I got to design a statue. 8D Sorry. That was definitely my favorite part of writing this chapter, though. It was fun doing research for verses from the Chant that would work and figuring out how to make the thing look. I just can't figure out how to center things, sorry. :I And Jowan... good sweet LORD. I love him more with every chapter, which I would think would violate some rule of the universe by this point. XD I'm going to try-TRY-to finish things up in the next chapter; seems like a good place for an ending. But no promises. I dunno what'll happen at this anniversary thing. And then I'll be diving right into the next arc of Rahna's story. And including all the others, don't worry. I miss Miri ad Gabriel and Vincent and Ashe and Kiv and all of 'em way too much to leave them out._


	100. Home

100. Home

"Are you ready, Rahna?"

I push away from the window ledge at Nathaniel's question, playing with my Warden's Oath necklace as I turn to face him.

"S'ppose so," I sigh, rolling my shoulders. Anora told me I didn't need to dress up for my appearance at this anniversary thing, nor did I _have_ to wear my armor, though I could if I wanted to. _"So long as you are there and wearing something appropriate, your appearance will serve its purpose,"_ she told me when I pressed.

I'm taking her up on that. My outfit is nice enough, while still being comfortable; an off-white, off-shoulder blouse under a light green bodice with small flowers embroidered on the lower front-borrowed from Shianni-paired with grey trousers and my ever-present boots. I cleaned them up a bit for this, but there's no disguising the fact these are well-loved and well-worn boots. They're Dalish in make, sturdy yet beautiful, and I've spent the majority of the last year and a half wearing them. I'd toyed with the idea of having Imara do something with my hair, but finally settled on my typical pigtails.

As I check the mirror one last time, I can't help but note there's not much to distinguish me from any other elf in this city. Only my scar, and the fact I'm missig the tip of one ear-just enough to make me look lopsided if you stare long enough.

_So why me?_ I can't help but wonder as I join Nathaniel, rubbing my fingers over Alistair's amulet. I know the answer; some cliche about "it's what's inside that counts", coupled with my usually good luck.

"Rahna, stop looking so worried," Nate admonishes with a chuckle, giving my shoulder a friendly squeeze. "You'll do fine. You don't even have to give a speech."

"It's still a large group that will be mostly humans," I groan, tugging more nervously on the amulet. "And I don't like crowds..."

"You'll have us," he reassures me. "And you'll do fine."

"You said that already," I feel obligated to point out as Jowan emerges from his room to join us.

"Well, perhaps I feel it bears repeating."

"What does?" Jowan asks, tugging at the collar of his robes. I know he's looking forward to leaving so he can go back to wearing regular clothes.

"That she'll do fine," Nathaniel fills him in.

"Ah. I'm with him, Rahna. You'll do fine."

"It's like a bloody echo chamber in here," I grumble, warmed by their confidence nonetheless. "C'mon, let's go."

**oOo**

Despite the faint chill in the air, this anniversary ceremony-I lost too much to call it a celebration-is going to be held outdoors. This is necessitated by the statue, which currently towers as a canvas-swathed mass over the gathering crowd.

I see Ralls and Sorrin-who looks much less grumpy-standing near their masterpiece, and offer a casual wave. Sorrin simply returns it, but Ralls grins at me as well. He's practically bursting with pride, and I can't really blame him.

"Commander," Anora greets me with a slight smile, one hand nestled snugly in the crook of her husband's arm.

"Your Majesty," I reply. The bow I offer is just formal courtesy, but it makes Anora's smile seem a little more sincere. "Ser Cousland." I turn to Hayden and repeat the gesture.

"Commander," he replies with a nod, looking extremely contented with the state of life in general. "Here all alone?"

I shake my head and laugh. "Maker, no. I could never handle a crowd this size without moral support of some kind. Nate and Jowan are here somewhere. I'm just not sure _exactly_ where."

He laughs. "I see. Well, I'm glad you agreed to stay, to come to this celebration. I understand the cost was higher for you than anyone." When his eyes meet mine, they're full of sincerity. He understands better than most, I think, what it is to lose your entire world in one night.

"Well, we need to be getting on with things, so it is best we take our leave. Commander." Anora inclines her head in a gesture of respect that I match before she and Hayden move away. It's only a few seconds later Nathaniel rejoins me, and I'm more than a little suspicious that he was simply avoiding Hayden. Not that I can really blame him if he was.

"So, where were you?" I tease instead.

Nathaniel shrugs. "Mingling. Trying to get a sense of how things are planned to go today so I can be on guard if anything seems... not right."

I laugh. "Is it _possible_ for you to completely relax, Nate?"

"No. But you seem to struggle with that yourself, _Commander_, so I wouldn't go throwing stones."

"I'm _not_. I was just _curious_." I lightly slug him in the arm. "Maker, are you touchy..."

He simply smiles and takes the abuse as we move through the crowd.

I know Anora is trying to make sure everything runs smoothly, especially since this is the first public appearance for her and Hayden as a couple since they returned from their honeymoon. Which means the ceremony part of things will be starting soon. I also know she at least wants me at the front of the crowd, if not up beside her on the temporary platform that was constructed especially for this occasion. I'm not entirely sure I want to be the center of attention, though. People have enough trouble as it is remembering _Alistair_ was the one who ended the Blight and saved their lives, not _me_.

But when Anora gestures for me to follow as she and Hayden approach the platform, something inside of me prompts me to go along with them. So I step away from my spot at Nate's side and follow the royal couple, my insides already twisting into knots.

**oOo**

_ "So, this could be it. Soon this will all be finished. One way or another."_

_ "I love you, Alistair."_

_ "And I love you. Always."_

**oOo**

The memory hits fast and hard, gone almost as soon as it comes, but so real that for a moment I can feel the heat of Denerim burning around me, smell the sharp tang of sweat and smoke and blood mingling together. But I can't see him.

And for the first time in my life, part of me is glad for that. I bring my hand up, curl my fingers over the two pendants that hang around my neck. _Be strong. Do it for him._ My grasp tightens, thumb sliding across the worn silver Warden's Oath. _And for you._

I glance back at Nathaniel. Jowan's standing with him, both of them shooting me "you okay?" looks. I give them a small nod as I drop my hand. I'll be fine.

"_And I love you. Always."_

I feel my smile waver ever so slightly as the words repeat in my head, inflections and all. _Or maybe I won't..._

_ Yes, you will. You can do this._ I look back at Nate and Jowan. _They're here for you. Moral support. You. Can. Do this._ I set my jaw with more than a trace of the sheer stubbornness I've been teased about my whole life, shove down the roiling emotions in my chest-I'll deal with them later, in private-and take my seat on the stage.

Once everyone is where they're supposed to be, the Revered Mother steps forward to offer a blessing and prayer for this event. Then Ralls and Sorrin take center stage for the monument's unveiling. Sorrin gives the requisite, shortened explanation of the process of designing and carving the monument that now sits before the palace. For all his gruffness, he's an excellent public speaker; his voice projects well, and he's sure to enunciate clearly, so even the people in the back of the crowd can at least sort of hear him. The speech is mercifully brief, and he then nods to the crew of workers, who pull on the ropes that divest the statue of its canvas shroud.

A murmur of awed approval sweeps through the crowd, and even though I saw it while in progress, I have to suck in a sharp breath in admiration of the finished work. It's... _magnificent._ I knew that was going to be the case, of course, but that doesn't make it any less awe-inspiring.

While the crowds of people are still oooh-ing and ahhh-ing over the monument, Anora steps to the front, says something to Sorrin pitched so low _I_ can't even hear it, and then waits for the masses to fall silent as the dwarf steps back. It takes a moment, but the queen is loved and respected by her people, and soon she gets the quiet she wanted.

"We have gathered this day to remember," she begins, hands clasped in front of her. "To remember the day the Blight ended, and to honor those who died to make that happen. Loss touched us all in the dark days when monsters threatened our lands." She glances at me and takes a breath before continuing, "But, as they have ever done, the Grey Wardens rose up in our defense. Even few in number as they were, they faced down the darkspawn horde. And in the end, they did not stand alone in the face of this evil. No, Ferelden stood with them, even in our darkest hour.

"They took the battle to the darkspawn, slaying the archdemon atop Fort Drakon in this very city. And though one of their number remains with us still, two perished in order to slay the archdemon, giving their very lives so that we might live free of the terror wrought by these fiendish creatures.

"It seems the very least we can do to honor them in this way on the anniversary of their sacrifice-and victory. But theirs are not the only names immortalized by this monument." She gestures toward the neat columns of names that cover three and a half sides of the statue. "We also honor the soldiers who gave their lives in defense of their homes, their families, their country. We shall not let their deaths be meaningless. We shall go on, we shall prosper, and we shall remember them. For we are Fereldans; we always perservere, and we _never forget_!"

The cheering that follows is wild, deafening, chaotic-and the perfect cover for me to slip away, almost entirely unnoticed.

**oOo**

The 'almost', of course, is Jowan. And even then, I have enough of a head start it takes him nearly an hour to find me. I'm actually sort of impressed; I'm sitting on the small balcony of what was my room while I was healing after the Battle of Denerim. It's not large, there's nothing special about it for anyone other than me.

My warning that I've been found is the door creaking open and footsteps crossing the floor. "So, what're you thinking about?"

I look up from the pendant I'm absently playing with and offer him a weak smile. "Just remembering. You're welcome to join me, though I won't be very good company, I'm afraid."

"And when did that ever stop you from puttin' up with me?" Jowan returns, skirting the bench to sit next to me.

"Good point," I chuckle, tracing one finger along the cracked surface of the amulet, staring at symbol that decorates the front.

We sit in comfortable silence for several long minutes before he finally asks, "So why here? Why not your room?"

"Because this_ was _my room," I explain, "And I figured it would be harder for people to find me, which is the point when you wanna think. Don't leave, though. It was getting lonely just my thoughts and me."

"That's usually the way of it." Jowan nods, thumb rubbing the scar across his palm. I don't think he even realizes he's doing it.

"I still miss him," I admit, closing my fingers around the amulet. "It's not as sharp, not as fresh, but I still have days where I want Alistair back so badly it hurts."

He shrugs. "I think that's normal, Rahna. It's only been a year. And no one has a right to tell you you're grieving too long or anything. _Especially_ if the two of you were in love."

"I know... But those days are so rare... I don't wanna mourn him _forever_, Jowan, but I don't wanna lose him completely, either."

He bites his lip. "I... honestly don't know what to tell you, Rahna." He rubs the scar harder, and I reach over to stop him.

"You still think about Lily." It's not a question; I know he does.

"I-" He sighs. "Yes, but that's different. She's not dead, and it's my own fault I lost her." He shakes his head. "But I didn't track you down to talk about _me_. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

I nod and this smile is less weak and more grateful. "I'm fine. I'm just... Maker, Jowan, I'm tired of _endings_. Endings means the adventure's done, which means saying goodbyes and losing people, whether to death or simply because you're each going your own way..." I look up at him. "And I hate goodbyes."

"Can't really blame you for that," he concedes, nudging my shoulder with his. "But hey, you'll always have me."

"Always?" I tease, giggling as I nudge him back.

"Yep. You're stuck with me," he deadpans. "Always."

"Sweet Andraste, what did I do wrong?!"

"_**Rahna!**_"

I punch his shoulder. "Oh, c'mon, you know I'm just kidding. I need you to be my sanity, remember?"

Jowan bites his lip, hard, and I can just _tell_ he's holding back some gloriously cutting remark that I totally deserve. I cock an eyebrow at him and he coughs sheepishly. "I'm sorry for not doing a better job..."

"_Hey!_"

He smirks at me. "Now we're even."

I laugh. "Fair enough." I push off the bench, pulling the amulet back over my head as I stand. "Now we need to go pack. With that ceremony thing out of the way, we get to go home tomorrow."

As we leave the room, I can't help but think on how ironic it is that I'm within a mile or so of where I grew up, yet _home_ has become a fortress guarding an arling I hadn't even seen until a few months ago. But that's the life of a Warden, I remind myself as I tug the door shut behind us, home is where you're stationed, where your friends are. Which means for me, the Vigil is now _home_.

And I can't wait to get back to it, whether there's an adventure waiting or no.

_A/N: I actually did it! *happy dance* I finished this right where I wanted to, with no crazy plot twists getting thrown at me last minute by my little minx of a muse! *ahem* Sorry. I was really worried she'd do something like that, so her behaving is a very good thing. Oh, and I want it known I hate writing speeches about as much as I love writing Rahna/Jowan banters. So, Absence is done, now, on to the sequel! I am going to take a week off from posting, both to work out the storyline for said sequel(I have a few smaller story arcs figured out, it's tying them all together and getting overarching plot nailed down that needs doing) and because I'm covering for someone at work this week and thus will have less time to write. *pout* So. Two weeks from now, keep your eyes peeled for chapter one of Rahna's next adventure! ^_^_


End file.
